The doctor's apprentice
by Denim Jean
Summary: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC Disclaimer: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)
1. Chapter 1

**The doctor's apprentice**

**Summary**: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC

**Disclaimer**: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 1: Thyme**

The coldest of sorrows languidly fell from the skies that grey day. Since the break of dawn, this pearly snow had started to pour in very slow motion, as if an army of angels was taking delight in crying the winter out of their icy eyes. Winterfell felt hard and cold like an iceberg, but enchanting and quite alive like a busy hive.

And there he was, standing aimlessly under that white, gentle shower, staring at the folk doing their daily, mundane tasks on this market day… There he was, Jon Snow. Tiny snowflakes rested on his black curls and his black attire. He had taken a minute to observe the busy people in their busy lives.

In spite of the freezing weather conditions, the marketplace seemed to have a life and will of its own. He could hear the people and their never-ending happy yelling, bargaining and soul-eating swearword-shouting; however, that day was a totally different day for some unfathomable reason. Everyone was smiling stupidly, as if they had fallen in love all of a sudden, all at the same time. That was odd. In addition, everyone was humming a joyful melody which Jon didn't know. Had it been any of the folk's traditional ones, he would've recognised it immediately. Some were whistling it, but they hushed whenever Jon was in their way.

Obviously, he felt both curious and threatened by this blissful secret. He regretted his current state of affairs, to put it mildly, but he knew there was no way to avoid being a bastard. You can't escape what you are.

Lord Stark's _bastard_ son.

As such, ever since he was born he was shunned out of major social events or any sort of 'normal' social interaction with those who surrounded him. As a kid it had been hard: how could an inexperienced, young mind like his possibly deal with something he didn't fully grasp? As a kid, he couldn't. However, growing up was no better. He had to learn the hard way, and yet he found himself unable to hate those with whom he shared his blood.

He was unwillingly stuck in that station. Therefore, that day in the marketplace he assumed that the people's sudden shutting up and melody-breaking, cold attitude towards him was another passive yet revolting consequence of his mere, immutable existence. Nevertheless, the people's ongoing puzzling behaviour only spurred his interest more and more.

He decided to walk about and simply observe what was going on. Once he had turned around the corner, he spotted a young woman of the same age he was in the middle of the main square. And it was _she_ who was playing a guitar and was singing those same mysterious joyful tunes which were being blissfully copied around town.

Children had gathered around her like bees around their hive, drinking from the lovely honey of her sweet, magnetic voice. The tiny snowflakes which dared to touch her skin melted almost instantly, and those which fell on her hair remained and looked as if they were exotic pearls. Her dark eyes and dark wavy hair were strikingly beautiful, but her lips were second to no other of her features: rosy and silky like the youngest of blooming flowers.

He didn't recognise her because, in fact, she was a foreigner in Winterfell. Jon Snow immediately knew it the second he had spotted her, since her clothing was strange to Winterfell's fashion: a light blue dress with some white, light pink and light salmon-coloured seashells sewn to it and a light baby blue cloak with white-furred edges.

As soon as she was done singing the song, the children sheepishly and rather reluctantly came back to their homes because their parents were calling them to have lunch or to help doing the housework. But it was midday and the market was still flooded with the people's frenzy to get the best products to be able to spend the coming winter as comfortably as possible. Thus, now that she was apparently alone, she obviously wanted to resume the task she had in mind. He could see her determination as she was packing her personal belongings: that was when she spotted Jon Snow and approached him directly. Usually, people ignored him.

That was odd. Again.

"Excuse me, may I ask for some information? I'm looking for Maester Luwin." Her agreeable voice proclaimed rather enthusiastically.

Winterfell was getting colder as days went by and Jon Snow, attired in the brand new dark-coloured furs which would keep anyone at bay, a mark of his destiny to the Wall, instinctively blinked a couple of times to readjust to the new situation: he was not just observing her then, he actually had to interact and answer her question sort of _nowish_. That was weird, especially because girls never wanted to interact with him. As usual, being a bastard was the culprit.

"If you'd be so kind to tell me, _please_…" She added consciously and politely as she blinked once, seeing that Jon was a bit dumbfounded. She was obviously displaying more self-awareness and boldness than any other girl her age in that remarkably cold region.

"Who's asking, pray?" Jon Snow answered rather coldly, although he didn't mean to be rude or impolite, but her straightforwardness and the surrounding hectic were overwhelming him. Besides, another person's interest in him had never been beneficial to his well-being. There was always something weird going on, something in which he had nothing positive to hope for.

"Miss Marian Bluegin, from Qarth." She answered smiling gently, interacting with him with a warm, quite normal formality; and for a split second Jon forgot his own name.

"From Q-Qarth?" He whispered bewildered, stammering a bit, which didn't quite fit his handsomeness – or so she thought. He fell silent for a couple of seconds but he went on eventually. "You come from one of the best-provided cities in the world and still you've come to Winterfell on market day, looking for old Maester Luwin." He said rather amused by that new information. "How is that so? What can the old man possibly offer to a young woman from Qarth, may I ask?"

Jon was thinking he was right asking about that, but his bluntness and curiosity were not welcome. A smile was faintly drawn on his lips and, although he was not conceited at all, it accidentally seemed as if he was.

"That's rather personal." She answered neutrally, just trying to be nice. "I need to speak with him about a private matter concerning medical assistance."

Marian eyed him suspiciously wondering whether he actually knew the old man she was looking for or not. Since her beauty was too striking to go unnoticed, she had got used to dealing with womanizers and rude men during her journey. A single young woman travelling in that land had to undergo certain inconveniences and be very brave. That was why she was carrying a couple of knives under her cloak. She could also handle a bow and arrows quite well. Better be safe than sorry.

Since Jon didn't give her any clues as regards Maester Luwin's whereabouts, Marian decided to end that nonsense altogether.

"Look, I'm not really into small talk, so if you excuse me…" Marian eventually said trying hard to veil the fact that she was mildly pissed off. She knew that handsome guys like that one could easily be jerks.

"I'm awfully sorry." He rushed to say with a trembling, sheepish voice, hesitating on which words to use. "I didn't mean to…"

Before Jon could open his mouth to elaborate on his apology for his sharpness, a boy started screaming. Both Marian and Jon turned around to see what had happened. That boy was hurt: his right hand was profusely bleeding on his palm. Some people started to panic and left an empty circle around the boy.

"Dear Gods!" Marian gasped as she made her way towards the boy. "Come, let me handle this." She added as she squatted down in front of him in the street.

Her hands came closer to him and got hold of the boy's right hand so that she could examine it closely. He just had a cut on his forefinger extending to the centre of the back of his hand. It would need some stiches, but he was crying as if his hand had just been cut off. His overreacting didn't really bother Marian: she knew how to deal with children.

"Now, stop crying. You're a grown-up lad, right? Are you the butcher's son?" She said quite motherly and straightforwardly as she sweetly stared into his eyes. Then, the boy became too shy to hold her gaze and stared at the snowy floor, then stained with his blood, scared to even breathe, but then she went on speaking as sweetly as before: "You're helping your parents to cut and sell meat in the marketplace, I see. That's great… But you have to be more careful with knives. This wound is no big deal. I can help you, but you have to stop crying. Hey. Look at me…It'll be alright. I promise."

Then, she cupped the boy's chin with his free hand and gently she made him face her. As she smiled at him, he stopped crying and calmed down. As soon as she had said those soothing words, the boy's aunt, who happened to be passing by, came closer and introduced herself.

Jon Snow was amazed at Marian's ability to soothe that poor boy. A few seconds had been more than enough to change his mood and calm him down. Even Jon was feeling the soothing effects of her voice, as if he could feel goose bumps on his soul.

"I'm going to cure you. We need to disinfect the wound. Have you got thyme at home by any chance?" Marian asked the boy. He just shook his head in denial. "Don't worry…Is this your home? Yes?"

His aunt confirmed it immediately.

"Let's go inside. I'll clean the wound first." Marian concluded.

She made the boy enter his homestead as his mother was rushing to him. The woman was a bundle of bad temper and nerves, but who could blame her for being worried? As the mother was hugging him and taking him to the kitchen, the kid eyed back to Marian and, with a special dark interest, to Jon Snow.

Then, Marian turned to Jon as she rose from her squatting position. A gentle cold breeze hit both their faces with the first snowflakes in some years. Winter was coming…

Jon couldn't help but staring at her for some precious seconds, as if he was a moth drawn into the candlelight. Then, she looked at him quite coyly and briefly smiled at him, as if she was suddenly shy. Some snowflakes had settled on his bewitching black curls. She bit her lower lip for just a brief instant as she stared at him and then she asked him straightforwardly as if she knew what he would eventually answer:

"Can anyone get me some thyme around here?" The question was meant only for him, although she was too proud to acknowledge that by saying the correct pronoun.

"Sure." Jon replied rather sheepishly, his voice very much like a warm whisper then. "Maester Luwin should have some. I'll go and fetch him and some thyme for you right away."

Marian saw the change of attitude and thought she might have been a bit rash as regards judging him. His half apology had also been quite childish in its performance. It was almost as if he was unaccustomed to talk to the female sex. In spite of his timidity, he smiled at her with such a warmth as if they had known each other for years and then he disappeared in this engulfing sea of marketplace people. Somehow Marian felt there was something deeply mysterious and lonesome, but also appealing about him.

A few seconds later, she came into the butcher's home and found the boy, his mother and his aunt in the kitchen.

"Let me help you clean the wound. A young man will bring some thyme shortly, don't you worry." Then, Marian asked the boy whispering: "Do you know him by the way?"

"Yes, he's Jon Snow. He's…" The boy answered quickly, but his voice soon stopped due to sudden hesitation. He eyed suspiciously at the elder women present. Then, he hissed as Marian poured cold water on his wound.

"He's… what?"

"He's Lord Stark's bastard son." His mother suddenly whispered to her as if she was ashamed to say those words. "Whoever named _Snow_ as a surname is a bastard from the North."

"But he's a really good man, m'lady. I swear!" The boy suddenly rushed to tell Marian.

"_Benjamin_!" His mother scolded him.

"I'm not a lady." She commented quite happily and giggled at him a bit. "But you flatter me…"

She seemed happy then, but somehow the mother's scolding seemed to be intended to hide something and she frowned a little. The conversation gently died soon after that, but Marian couldn't stop thinking about this young man she had just met.

_'__Jon Snow…a bastard from the North.' _She thought._ 'And a good man. I guess.'_

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A few minutes later, Jon Snow returned with dear old and balding Maester Luwin, who was holding a glass bottle containing thyme liquid extract and rushing to see if the boy had been badly hurt or not – and to meet this young lady who was soothing him so wonderfully. Jon had portrayed a brief but heavenly description of her to him, which had spurred the old man's interest in meeting her personally as soon as possible.

"Come in, please, Maester Luwin." The boy's father, the butcher, said gently but firmly. He had come shortly after the incident, as soon as he had been told about it. "They're expecting you. They're in the kitchen cleaning the wound."

The three men went inside, although the butcher didn't seem pleased to let a bastard into his home. His face showed his contempt for him. Since it was a commonly displayed feeling towards him, Jon realised of it immediately but paid no special notice. The attitude was too obvious to go unnoticed, but he was used to it.

"Praise the Old Gods!" Maester Luwin exclaimed seeing the boy's wound. "You're lucky, Benjamin!" He said relieved. "Very lucky! This young lady has taken good care of you, I see. Now that the wound has been cleaned properly, we can proceed by applying some thyme liquid extract to disinfect it… Thank you, by the way, … er…"

"Miss Marian Bluegin, Maester Luwin. Nice to meet you." She said gently as Maester Luwin poured some of the disinfecting liquid on the boy's hand.

To his relief, it didn't hurt much. So he stopped frowning and making funny faces. Both Marian and Jon chuckled lightly at his childish reaction. The fact that they had both displayed the same automatic reaction made them glimpse each other for just a second. Somehow Jon felt embarrassed by that, but Marian just let her eyes rest on little Benjamin's hand.

"We'll talk later, Miss Bluegin." Maester Luwin swiftly answered once he was done with the thyme liquid. "Now we need to take care of sewing the wound. It'll need some stiches."

"I can do it, if you don't mind of course, Maester Luwin." She offered happily.

Maester Luwin eyed her amazed, but if she had taken care of the boy until then so industriously, did it mean that she could properly stitch his wound too? Was she able of such a thing? Was she some sort of doctor? Did she know what to do exactly? Therefore, when he dared to utter his honest doubts to her, he did so in slight disbelief, but expecting to obtain a surprising answer on her behalf. She didn't take it badly. As an answer she smiled warmly and said:

"I'm a doctor's apprentice, Maester Luwin. I can prove it to you." She said with confidence.

He smiled back and looked satisfied. And her work on the poor boy's hand was enough proof of her word.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A few minutes later that same day, Maester Luwin had been summoned by Lord Stark to talk about some issues concerning some current issues of the daily routine in Winterfell.

"But tell me Maester Luwin," Lord Stark went on. "you've been talking to this young lady for a while. If she cured the butcher's eldest son, does this mean that this young woman is a doctor?"

"No, not really. Let me explain." Maester Luwin answered keenly. They had been postponing their duties for some minutes as they chatted about what had happened earlier that day in the marketplace. "Miss Marian Bluegin is only an apprentice, but she gives a lot of importance to self-teaching. I'm told she has been travelling all across Westeros in search of the best physicians, doctors and healers, to learn from them of course, and she reads a lot as well – anything that she can find of medical value on her way. But she's not a doctor _per se_. But I guess that's just a matter of time, my lord."

"Interesting." Lord Stark seemed to muse on something else as he stroked his chin.

"What is more, she's travelling on her own, but she won't be talked out of it although it's quite dangerous for a woman. She's stubborn and possesses an admiring degree of determination, I must say. She says she knows the risks and claims to be good at defending herself." Maester Luwin stated rather amused by it. "She owns a nice couple of knives and a bow and arrows – and she claims she knows how to use them properly."

"She knew your name, didn't she? How come?" Lord Stark inquired quite seriously, as if he suspected her intentions.

"She says she had heard of my reputation a few miles south from here. That's why she decided to come to Winterfell." Maester Luwin answered flatly. "She wants my knowledge, my lord."

"And you say this quest of hers is meant to provide some sort of medicine or cure for a mysterious, lethal illness in Qarth. If no doctors from Qarth _itself_ have a clue about what to do, it must be something big… and an extremely dangerous illness. Qarth is enormous and quite advanced in all fields, especially commerce." Lord Stark was not happy at all. That could have serious consequences. "Is the field of medicine also advanced there?"

"Yes, my lord, and I'm afraid this serious illness could be something big." Maester Luwin added with a heavy sigh. "She's told me that the nature of this illness is quite strange, since it doesn't infect everyone and develop in the same way. Its development and spreading pattern to present day is confusing. Every single doctor from Qarth and abroad is appalled by the facts presented to them before their eyes." Maester Luwin's eyes distilled his biggest fears. "So far she hasn't met a doctor who could provide any straightforward solution. And neither could I, to be sure. She was devastated."

"Is there any chance she could be infected?" Lord Stark asked quite darkly, thinking of the welfare of the people under his command and protection.

"I think we should trust her, she's clean. The illness is found only in men, my lord. Or so she says."

"Let's hope so."

After a few seconds in complete silence, Lord Stark spoke again. The severity in his voice had worn off.

"And you say my son, Jon, has met her, right?"

"Yes, my lord. He came to fetch me and then he told me about her." Maester Luwin told Lord Stark with a gentle smirk on his face.

"Why do you smile that way, pray? I've never seen you smile like this in a _very long_ time." Lord Stark asked quite amused due to Maester Luwin's automatic reaction.

"It's nothing, my lord." He excused himself. "But I had been young once too… you know." He giggled a bit.

Lord Stark smiled back to him and understood what Maester Luwin was wondering about.

"I wish to speak with her, Maester Luwin. Can you bring her to me now, please?" Lord Stark asked rather seriously, but keen.

"Sure, my lord."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"I was looking forward to meeting you, Miss Bluegin." Lord Stark said rising from his chair as Marian and Maester Luwin came in.

Maester Luwin was surprised to see that Robb was also present, the eldest son and heir standing with pride next to his father, but he didn't say a word even though his eyes revealed an unruly curiosity for the young lady. His dark hair resembled much to Jon's, she had noticed it immediately.

"I humbly thank you for receiving me, although I don't deserve such attention, m'lord." She answered politely, wondering who the young one beside Lord Stark was. She assumed he must've been a legitimate child of his whose age was similar to Jon's.

"But you _do_ deserve my attention: tell me, Miss Bluegin," Lord Stark proceeded with a keen interest in her – and she could clearly sense it, like Robb's penetrating gaze on her. "don't you think I'd get interested in someone who cares about the children under my protection and cures them despite not knowing them at all?"

"Well, I never treat people differently, m'lord. They're all equal to me. Young or old. Rich or poor. Men or women. Neighbours or foreign people. That's what my father taught me." She said rather formally, but warmly.

"Are we _all_ equals, Miss Bluegin? Am I to understand that you're defying the nobility of Westeros?" Lord Stark giggled a bit at the thought, but he never implied to be rude or aggressive.

"Is that the impression that I've given you so far, Lord Stark?" She elaborated as calmly as she could muster although she felt under attack. "Do illnesses or wounds treat you differently from the rest of the mortals, m'lord?" She made a pause. "Or _death_, for that matter?"

Silence reigned in the room then. Lord Stark saw she didn't mean trouble, although her mind and tongue were sharp like a blade. She wasn't defying the concept of nobility, she was just telling him she didn't mind curing those who were poor or unknown to her. It was obvious that she just thought of the well-fare of _absolutely_ every soul around her, which was admirable. Robb was also positively impressed by her attitude and her ideas.

"Your father is a very wise man. I apologise if I have been rude to you, Miss Bluegin. I never meant to say anything which would bother you." Lord Stark apologised warmly.

"Thank you. I apologise if I have been rude to you too, m'lord. It was purely accidental." She went back to her normal, usual self.

"Can I ask you some questions before Maester Luwin shares his medical knowledge with you?" Lord Stark asked politely.

"Sure, no problem, m'lord."

"He's told me your story, but he was quite brief, I think. Would you like to expand on the aim of your quest, please?"

"The aim of my quest is to gather as much knowledge and herbs as possible so that I can develop a cure to a strange illness which is killing hundreds of men back home, in Qarth. Its wake is usually slow and painful – and unfortunately, it started affecting my father as well, soon before I decided to start my journey. I was hoping to find some evidence of it here in Westeros, but I think this illness hasn't spread here – fortunately for you, unfortunately for me, of course."

"Unfortunately for you?" He raised an eyebrow at that comment.

"Yes, if you had known about this illness, that would've meant I wasn't alone fighting against this." She said rather hopelessly and then she sighed. Robb's eyes saddened due to her words. His empathy was more than obvious. "Or maybe developed a cure we've been unable to find."

"How many doctors and healers have you met so far?" Lord Stark asked.

"I've lost count, but I've met the best doctors from all cities south and west of King's Landing and for the last few months I've been meeting some doctors in Valle of Arryn and nearby… That's when I heard about Winterfell and Maester Luwin."

"And you came straight here."

"Why not? The people I met along the way loved you and claim your good reputation. I think I have done right." She said with great determination.

"You may have." Lord Stark saw her sincerity from the very beginning. She was an extremely kind, noble, young woman. "I hope that you can find here what you're looking for. Should you ever need my help, I'd be glad to come to your assistance, Miss Bluegin."

"That's too generous on your behalf, m'lord…" She answered as if she was embarrassed.

"Unfortunately, I know very little about medicine. So I assume I'd be of little assistance in that matter." Lord Stark admitted a bit too honestly. "But I can provide you somewhere to stay and food, if you let me. This will be my treat. I'm in your debt since you cured that child."

"Nonsense! You don't owe me anything at all!" She exclaimed bit too straightforwardly. "… m'lord. I can manage on my own. You don't have to worry about me or…"

"Absolutely not, Miss Bluegin. Please accept my invitation: I've already given orders that a room should be cleaned and prepared for you, quite close to Maester Luwin's study room. You'll stay as long as you need and eat with us all meals."

He actually thought she might mean some fresh air in the little society of Winterfell. Not many travellers would stay for longer than a couple of days, since the weather was not generally inviting. Once their business was over, they left soon afterwards. In fact, he was thinking about his offspring, actually: Robb didn't seem keen to find a woman to marry yet (or the best matches were living too far from Winterfell), Arya was mad at her elder sister Sansa and was in need of a new friend and a more feminine role model than Robb or Jon, Sansa was bored with her girlfriends and couldn't help daydreaming of going abroad and meeting new people, Theon Greyjoy was nothing but trouble, Bran was unable to focus on his training and kept climbing walls too often… and Jon was thinking of going to the Wall and become a soldier of the Night's Watch because he didn't quite fit in Winterfell – or no one thought he _could_, that is. Her long stay could be an enriching experience for them all before _life_ would actually tear them apart – or that's what he was hoping for.

"I thank you… a lot…, Lord Stark. I…" Marian managed to utter, but surprise had left her speechless. "I… have… no words to express my gratitude right now."

"You may thank me later – don't worry, child. By the way," Lord Stark added, spiking her interest right when she thought it was over. "we're receiving a very important visit in a couple of weeks or so. Would you feel _imposed on_ if the King and the royal family sat by our side at the table, Miss Bluegin? You don't need to be frightened of so many of us around you." He asked smiling at her.

"Do I look scared of nobles?" She asked smirking quite boldly, which made Robb smile back.

"I beg your pardon, but you _do_ when it comes to expressing gratitude, Miss Bluegin…" Lord Stark said smiling broadly, but not meaning naught. Seeing that she breathed a bit deeplier than normal and didn't dare to answer anything after that, Lord Stark decided to stop pushing her. "It's fine, Miss Bluegin. I apologise if I've been rude now." His gently smile put her immediately at ease.

"Don't worry about it, m'lord." She said smiling briefly.

"You may go now. Check if the chamber suits you, and if there's anything I can do for you, you just need to ask for it. I'm expecting to see you at supper."

"Again, thank you very much, Lord Stark. You're extremely generous."

Having said that, she left feeling Robb's eyes glued to her back.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Maester Luwin accompanied Marian as they went to her chamber. Soon he left her to herself.

There were top-quality items everywhere. The wood was thick and good. The bed sheets had golden embroiderings. There were bronze decorations everywhere. The candles were quite thick and pure white. And there were books… plenty of books on the shelves. Now this was an improvement compared to the last few months!

"Wow… This is beyond amazing!" She whispered to herself, flabbergasted to see such a luxurious place. "_This_ is meant to be my chamber?! These people are nuts!"

And loaded. Or so it seemed to her.

She gasped at every single expensive thing or detail she discovered as her eyes roamed around her chamber. She wasn't a noble young woman, but she was the daughter of a doctor back home, and that meant something. Since she was little, she was used to seeing luxury and wealth in his father's richest patients' homes.

In particular, she became a really close friend of a boy who was the only heir of an extremely successful merchant in Qarth. His name was Josua. Her father treated his whole family and, as time went by, both men – doctor and patient – became great friends. Therefore, she was brought to their home every now and them despite the class difference.

Josua and she were the same age. They used to play every afternoon in their back garden: it was her favourite place in the whole world. She could actually smell peace and quiet if she closed her eyes and remained silent. The sound of the water of a nearby well had had soothing effects on her. The golden, warm sun would pour his rays on them and made them feel its warmth of their skins. Plants and lush exotic flowers surrounded them and it made them feel as if they were happily playing in paradise. Thyme grew tall and strong – and she loved to smell it every day. And Josua loved it when she enjoyed their flowers.

And now that she was there, in one of Winterfell's luxurious chambers, she was reminded of that level of wealth, although Winterfell and Lord Stark's abode were completely different from Josua's home in Qarth. However, the mere remembrance made her smile warmly.

One of those blissful afternoons, somehow she ended up holding hands with Josua by the thyme bushes and he suddenly promised he'd marry her. They were just a couple of ten-year-olds. She giggled at the prospect and he thought she was not taking him seriously, so all of a sudden he frowned, pulled her closer and kissed her right cheek. Naturally, she froze… and he left in a rush.

They never spoke about that ever since, but she honestly thought that neither of them had forgotten about it. She never would. The thing was that time went by, obligations made them live in different environments and their friendship grew colder due to distance. She began to study and practice medicine; he began to follow his father's steps, travelling and trading goods in several different countries.

Marian then sat on her new bed in Winterfell and sighed as she remembered how they sadly grew apart. Her eyes were lost outside the window, focusing on the falling snow from Winterfell. She was confused and she knew it: other girls knew for sure whether they fancied a boy, but she was unable to tell the difference between _missing_ and _fancying_ a former friend from childhood.

The only thing she knew for sure was that, just a few months ago, Josua had come back for her one evening at her home, but he didn't stay for long. Actually, he might've felt ashamed or something, since he sneaked into her room when she wasn't there. He climbed to her balcony. She accidentally caught him climbing down from it when he was already leaving, but when their gazes met, he suddenly felt horribly ashamed, blushed and fled immediately.

In spite of his sudden flight, he had had enough time to do what he had intended to do. He left a gift for her on her desk: a generous, lovely bouquet of thyme and a note which said "Thyme to disinfect any doubts in your heart. I haven't forgotten my promise". She had definitely felt something strong enough to make her blush and freeze completely when she realised what that meant. But it was too late: she picked up her suitcase and left to Westeros. The ship wouldn't wait for her much longer. She had a quest to fulfil and no time to lose.

Quite literally.

And when she found herself so far away from home that wintry afternoon, in such a cold place like Winterfell, Marian felt overcome with fear and homesickness like never before.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary**: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC

**Disclaimer**: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Previously…**

Marian then sat on her new bed in Winterfell and sighed as she remembered how they sadly grew apart. Her eyes were lost outside the window, focusing on the falling snow from Winterfell. She was confused and she knew it: other girls knew for sure whether they fancied a boy, but she was unable to tell the difference between _missing_ and _fancying_ a former friend from childhood.

The only thing she knew for sure was that, just a few months ago, Josua had come back for her one evening at her home, but he didn't stay for long. Actually, he might've felt ashamed or something, since he sneaked into her room when she wasn't there. He climbed to her balcony. She accidentally caught him climbing down from it when he was already leaving, but when their gazes met, he suddenly felt horribly ashamed, blushed and fled immediately.

In spite of his sudden flight, he had had enough time to do what he had intended to do. He left a gift for her on her desk: a generous, lovely bouquet of thyme and a note which said "Thyme to disinfect any doubts in your heart. I haven't forgotten my promise". She had definitely felt something strong enough to make her blush and freeze completely when she realised what that meant. But it was too late: she picked up her suitcase and left to Westeros. The ship wouldn't wait for her much longer. She had a quest to fulfil and no time to lose.

Quite literally.

And when she found herself so far away from home that wintry afternoon, in such a cold place like Winterfell, Marian felt overcome with fear and homesickness like never before.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 2: Make an impression**

A few minutes later, Marian recovered from her homesickness and decided to go out and meet Maester Luwin again. She hoped he'd start teaching her immediately, even though there were only a few mintues left before supper. And maybe, she could meet more new people in Winterfell. It was one of the largest places she's had been in the last few weeks. The seashells sewn onto her dress and cloak were jingling joyfully as she walked through the corridors.

On her way to Maester Luwin's study room, which was on the basement, right below her own chamber, a young red-head woman accidentally bumped into her.

"Oh! I'm awfully sorry!" Ros apologised rather clumsily, as if she felt silly, not daring to meet the eyes of the allegedly noble woman into whom she had bumped. "I wasn't looking. I'm sorry, m'lady."

"Oh, I'm sorry too. But don't worry." Marian answered straightforwardly. "I'm not a lady…"

"Aren't you?" Ros asked surprised, raising an eyebrow and staring at her in an analytic attitude. Then, she dared to establish eye contact with her speaking partner. "By your looks and where you were coming from, I thought so…"

"I'm Marian Bluegin, a doctor's apprentice from Qarth." Marian said happily, extending a hand to the ginger, who was half frozen by Marian's straightforward kindness.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Ros – a whore from Winterfell." Ros said rather proud, shaking her hand with determination.

"Nice to meet you, Ros." Marian said gently.

"You're not partial to sluts, I see. That's weird." Ros was intrigued. "Other women usually shun us."

"I don't treat people differently for any reason." Marian smiled briefly at her while she said so.

"You must be either a saint or extremely naïve. Which is it?" Ros asked with a bit of cheek as she raised one of her lush eyebrows.

"_Neither_, Ros. But if I _had_ to pick one,…" Marian said as she pretended to think about it, smiling broadly. "let it be naïve. I'm not a saint definitely. I couldn't be one."

"Good to know…" She winked at her.

Both ladies giggled a bit. They felt so comfortable with each other that they felt as if they were automatically friends.

"You got a nice waist, hips and… _tush_ – please, excuse my language." Ros dared to say as she indecently stared at Marian's attributes. "I'm not coy at all."

"Excuse me, but… do you fancy _women_?" Marian asked almost whispering, a bit ashamed.

"_Nah_, I don't." Ros said with pride. "But you'd never believe what I'm capable of if you named the right price."

"Oh." Marian whispered and blushed while Ros giggled a bit.

"Don't be prudish. It doesn't suit a bold young woman like you!" Ros said smiling broadly. "For old bats it's OK, but not for a woman like you."

"You're so… _direct_. I'm not used to this."

"_Bah_, if you stick around long enough, you'll get used to it." Ros said as winked at her again and linked her left arm with Marian's right one. They started walking along the corridor. She moved like a panther: silent and predatory. "I bet that people are quite different in Qarth, _innit_?"

"You're right. But that doesn't mean I _don't_ like you. Whores have a different status there." Marian explained.

"Hey, I like you too already!" Ros said amused. "If you ever need me, just come to the pub round the corner. My home's there."

"Do you mean the _brothel_ is there?" Marian asked feeling naughty.

"_Tja_… sort of… _yeah_." Ros smirked at her as she admitted the truth.

"Now this is a _nice_ surprise…" A cheeky male voice said from behind both of their backs. "What have you got here for me, Ros?"

Both girls turned immediately to see who was speaking to them. Theon Greyjoy was standing right behind them, red-haired, elf-like, tall like a watchtower, and smiling with naught. Too much naught.

At first, Marian thought he wasn't a trustworthy fellow, but she tried to erase that thought since she actually had no proof of it and she had always strived to be as neutral and impartial as possible. However, there was something about him that made her shiver. His eyes felt like burning her skin, corroding her intimacy with something more than lust, something which might not even have a name.

"Oh, it's _you_, Theon." Ros said with cheek, too. "And no, don't get your hopes high. She's _not_ for you."

"What do you mean by that?" He wasn't satisfied with that answer and eyed Ros suspiciously. Then, he got closer to Marian and swiftly cupped her delicate chin. His voice became a ruthless whisper as he continued thus: "She is gorgeous like no other…" His face came closer and closer to Marian's. She became afraid. Then, his other hand tried to get hold of her waist, but Ros grabbed his wrist before he could touch Marian. "… and she looks _scared_ of me already – you know I _love_ that, Ros."

As soon as he had finished speaking, Marian slapped the hand which was holding her chin and frowned defiantly at him. He just chuckled and pulled his wrist from Ros' hand as if it didn't matter.

"She's brave, I see…" His voice sounded like a hungry wolf.

"I told you she's _not_ for you, Theon." Ros said angrily.

"Are you jealous I prefer her over you, dear Ros?" He asked trying to mock her.

"Stop making a fool of yourself. She's not a slut." Ros answered happily as ever. "She's a new doctor's apprentice under Maester Luwin's command, so you'd better behave, _mister_."

"Oh, I see!" He said staring at Marian indecently from head to toes and back upwards again, which made Marian feel extremely uneasy. "How fortunate I am to have such a beautiful sight from now on... I bet we'll be seeing each other… _quite often_."

"You'd better be careful with your words, Ironborn." Jon Snow's voice thundered in the air and startled Marian, but not Theon.

No one saw or heard him coming. He was standing behind Theon, with a fierce look on his face. Both Marian and Ros felt relieved that they were not alone facing Theon: Ros knew from experience what could happen to a woman if she was left alone in the company of that devil, and Marian was suddenly relieved to see that Jon had a protective attitude.

"Or what, _bastard_?" Theon asked defiantly as he turned and faced Jon as if nothing had happened.

Apparently, Theon must've got used to Jon's sort of lurking in the shadows because he wasn't surprised at all. He was rather amused, indeed.

But the sudden, verbal acknowledgment of Jon's status quo in front of Marian, whom he assumed didn't know about him being a bastard, made him clench his fists and teeth in anger. Somehow he wished she could've been kept in a blissful, dark oblivion as regards that sinful information, but it was too late already. Anyway, someone would eventually have told her sooner or later – and he had to reluctantly accept it.

"You might not have to answer to me, but you might have to Maester Luwin or Lord Stark… if you ever cross her again." Jon answered in full testosterone-mode. "I'll see to that myself."

"Oh, yeah?" Theon was being unbearably cocky. "Your threats don't scare me, Jon Snow. This wench is no different from the rest – she's just another _saucy_ _cunt_ in this bloody cold place you call home, _bastard_…"

At that, something snapped in Jon's mind, so much so that he came straightforwardly and threateningly to Theon.

"Shut your mouth, Theon." Jon whispered with a husky, growling voice, daring to partially show his clenched teeth while he grabbed Theon's collar and pulled it fiercely.

"I've hit a sore spot, haven't I? _Interesting_…" Theon was genuinely having fun, and Marian didn't like it one bit. That young man could be really dangerous if he wanted to; however, Jon would not step back.

"Stop it. I warn you." Jon's voice went some octaves down the scale and it felt like the scariest thing that Marian had ever heard in her entire life, acknowledging that he could be quite dangerous too.

Then, Jon glared at Theon's eyes for some seconds in complete silence, but Theon didn't feel like backing off. Thus, he drew a naughty smirk on his fishy face.

"I bet you want her for yourself, bearing in mind the place you'll be in a few weeks' time…" Even though Theon's voice was a mere whisper, the sentence was uttered with all the strength and courage as it can be expected of something that's inevitably and unfortunately true and undeniable.

As a consequence, Jon grunted lowly, but he didn't give in for a second. He didn't see the blush on Marian's cheeks or Ros' stern face.

"How dare you…" He finally managed to say.

And then, Jon wanted to punch him, but he immediately stopped when he saw that Maester Luwin was just about to discover them. He was aimlessly walking along the corridors right when they were on the verge of starting a fight. So Jon just pushed Theon away from both girls and grunted again. Theon's grin was still imperturbably lingering on his face, but he wasn't satisfied. He knew he had to finish what he had started a bit later than he had initially thought. But he could wait.

"There you are, Marian." Maester Luwin greeted her gently. Then, he saw Marian's and Ros' stern, frightened faces. Jon was giving them his back and Theon was grinning naughtily. Maester Luwin took his own conclusions, and he was right. "I was expecting you. I want to show you the study room, if you have a couple of spare minutes. May I call you by your name, Marian? If it doesn't bother you, that is, sweetheart."

"Sure, Maester Luwin." Marian replied kindly.

Ros smiled, briefly bowed at Maester Luwin and made herself scarce. She didn't like problems and fights. And Maester Luwin didn't like her… or whores in general. Then, Maester Luwin proceeded, quite sternly now:

"Haven't you all got chores to do, Theon? Jon?"

"Yes, Maester Luwin." Jon whispered agreeably as he momentarily turned to both Marian and Maester Luwin.

Then, he nodded briefly, stole one last glance from Marian and left without hesitation. Theon didn't say anything, but left anyways. The crisis was over, but Marian felt her heart flutter wildly. It had been colliding the inner walls of her ribs all the time since Jon had appeared.

"Are you all right, Marian?" Maester Luwin asked worried.

"I'm fine, thank you." She tried to smile, but it cracked.

"Oh, sweetheart." He tried to comfort her. "Let's go to the study room and tell me what's happened."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Once Maester Luwin and Marian were in the study room, which was one single huge room at the basement of Lord Stark's castle, she felt as if they had entered into a completely different world: a paradise full of books, test tubes, clean trays, bottles and flasks full of herbs or processed potions, creams or lotions, and other medical or investigation-related material. The room had a special aura of its own, something that common places don't have. It glowed with the silent magic of potential knowledge, and it smelled like dry leaves, fresh leather, and burnt but sweet combining chemicals.

"Do you like it?" He asked her smiling genuinely. "You can't hide it: your face has enlightened the second you've come in here…"

"It's amazing…" She whispered as her eyes roamed around the place.

"Here is where I study, make research, cure patients and read in my spare time – if I have any! There's usually so much work to do around here…You can come here when you want."

"It's the best I've seen so far!" Marian exclaimed full of wonder.

"Really?" He said raising an eyebrow.

"You must be a very wise man." She said coming closer to him, thrilled by her prospective, fruitful future there in Winterfell. "I can't wait to learn from you, Maester Luwin. I think I'll be finally successful in my quest!"

"Don't run so fast, young lady." He tried to display prudence. "You must know that I don't possess ultimate knowledge about everything. We'll go bit by bit. Have patience. Don't worry."

"I know. I _have_ patience, I'm just… _excited_!"

"_Ah,_ _youth_!" Maester Luwin exclaimed and sighed. Then he shook his head lightly and chuckled. Marian just smiled broadly. Maester Luwin reminded her of her own father.

Both teacher and student spent the few minutes left before dinner in the study room.

When he asked for the nature of the uneasy event with Jon and Theon in the corridor, Marian briefly and openly shared her experience and her fears. She put some emphasis in the fact that Jon's state of affairs was used as a weapon against him, meaning that everyone seemed to be free to accuse him of being a bastard.

"I know," Maester Luwin agreed rather sadly. "I know, I know, the poor man has been toyed with ever since he was little. He shouldn't be blamed for the sins of his parents, but he can't help what he is."

"That's true, but cruel. Don't you think so, Maester Luwin?"

"Once he's out of Winterfell and way up North, defending the Wall, the problem will be solved." He said with a sigh at the end.

"What?" She asked dumbfounded and worried. "The Wall?"

"Yes, do you know what the Wall is and what purpose it serves, young lady?"

"Yes, yes, I do." She said nodding with vehemence but her eyes were glowing with a sudden, uncontainable dread she didn't know she possessed. "Jon's bound to leave Winterfell? When?"

"I don't know. Probably after the royal visit that'll take place in a fortnight. We'll see."

Maester Luwin saw how her facial expression darkened and her lips lost her usual vitality and spark, as if she refrained herself from speaking any more. He sighed and decided to change the subject. They moved on to medical business. Time flew and when they realised what time it was, they gasped in amazement: it as time for dinner already.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Their first dinner together was a complete success. Well, more or less.

When Lord Stark introduced Marian to his offspring, all of their eyes grew larger than ever due to the surprise. Since Marian was made to sit and have dinner with them, at the same table, she had to endure being the centre of attention every now and then. Sansa started to jump due to joy and never ceased talking to Marian about absolutely everything during the meal. Bran fell automatically in love with her motherly expression and voice. Robb couldn't help freezing when he saw her again, but he soon displayed a stupid smile on his face for the rest of the evening. Arya was thrilled to have an adventurous young lady taking the lead in a quest and never stopped asking her questions about her journey. For some reason, Arya thought that all of Marian's words were sacred.

Both Jon and Theon had already met Marian under less formal circumstances, so they didn't display such degree of amazement, although they were both more than glad to be close to her again… for different reasons, of course. That was why both young men were eyeing each other suspiciously and acting cocky, especially Theon.

Presiding all meals, there were Lord and Lady Stark accompanied by Maester Luwin. They were gladly enjoying the feast amongst the youths before their older eyes.

"Now I realise that Marian probably is the best entertainment they've had in months." Maester Luwin said to Lord Stark smiling gently. He was sitting on his right at the dinner table.

"I can't argue with that." Lord Stark was pleased to agree.

"She's really charming, you know. We were talking and I barely noticed it was time for supper already." Maester Luwin added joyfully. He hardly looked overtly happy about anything in particular, but it wasn't the wine talking: it was genuine amusement. "The thing is, my lord, some trouble has happened this afternoon." He said rather sternly then.

"Concerning who?" Lord Stark asked seriously.

"Theon, Jon, that whore whose name is Ros, I think, and Marian, my lord."

"I wouldn't worry about Ros." Lord Stark didn't consider it a big deal. "She was probably just meeting Theon. I know he's fucking her every once in a while. But what about Jon and Marian?"

"Theon was harassing Marian in the corridor, not _meeting_ Ros, my lord. Jon has stood up for her and if it wasn't for me accidentally entering the scene they would've beaten each other to death."

"Theon causing trouble, as usual. Now I get why they're so tense right now." Lord Stark smiled at himself.

Then, he stared at both young men, who were sternly looking at each other from the corner of their eyes. Jon had never looked so menacing, which was odd bearing in mind his usual gentle and subdued nature. It made Lord Stark frown just lightly, but it was obvious that he didn't like how the events might develop in the future should Theon cause trouble again.

"I recommend that Jon should leave for the Wall as soon as possible." Maester Luwin added then, as if that was the solution to the problem. "I wouldn't like to see him near her."

"You're not suggesting" Lord Stark suddenly asked Maester Luwin rather amused, as if it was a joke. "he's going to back off from going to the Wall because he _wants to protect_ her?! Because he's _interested_ in her?!"

"It's only a suggestion, my lord." Maester Luwin replied seriously.

"What about Theon then? What should I do with him?" Lord Stark asked in the same fashion.

"Send him on some mission or something. We can't afford him harassing the best apprentice I've ever seen in my entire life!"

"You're taking this quite _personally_, Maester Luwin. I'm surprised."

"I'm sorry, my lord, if I've given you the wrong impression." Maester Luwin was quick to add. "I've simply grown fond of her and my need to see her protected is purely natural. She's been telling me she loves going to the woods on her own, and that she's planning to go alone tomorrow in spite of today's trouble with Theon. Her boldness and straightforwardness are truly remarkable, but I'm afraid she might get hurt."

"I understand. She's valuable, and I want her safe and sound here… Not worrying whether Theon might rape her." Lord Stark concluded seriously. "But I've had a brilliant idea which might put your mind at ease." He added smiling at him.

"Really, my lord?"

At that moment, cheering and laughing could be heard from the area where the youths were seated. All except Jon and Theon were laughing. The Stark girls were the loudest. Even Robb, who was never fond of displaying too many emotions, was chuckling freely. It was charming the way in which Marian had bewitched Lord Stark's offspring, her dark, wavy hair freely cascading on her shoulders as she smiled widely to each and every one of them.

"I wish she'd never go away. The kids will be devastated when she leaves." Lord Stark pointed out seriously, as if he had been defeated.

"I know. She can't stay for long for now. She's due to come back to Qarth and save her father and the other patients who suffer from that cursed illness – but she can come back someday, can't she?" Maester Luwin concluded. "Is this brilliant idea you've just had pointing in that direction, my lord?"

"Wait and see…" Lord Stark whispered playfully back at Maester Luwin. "In a few days… or a couple of weeks probably, maybe I can do something about it. I need a bit of time…"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

On the next morning, in Maester Luwin's study room…

"I'm able to go to the woods and get the herbs and plants on my own. Tell Lord Stark that I thank him nonetheless." Marian repeated quite seriously while she was preparing her bag with great determination. She was mildly angry about the fact that they thought she couldn't manage on her own.

"Marian, please." Maester Luwin insisted. "This is for your own safety."

"I know. I know. But I –" She complained a bit further.

"I know what could've happened with Theon yesterday, young lady…" The balding, old wise man added quite sternly, as if he was chiding her. "I'm sorry and I know you prefer to work on your own, but bearing in mind that Theon is a sexually overactive fool, you should be accompanied at all times."

Marian sighed exhausted, gently closed her eyes once and kept them like that for a couple of seconds, only to open them again when she asked who would be going with her as if she was surrendering. Then, they heard a soft knocking sound coming from the door of Maester Luwin's study room. Still tired but as if she was in an ethereal dream, she automatically turned to look as the door opened and Jon Snow appeared before her eyes. He was standing under the threshold, holding the door with one hand, staring at her. The morning light shone on his back, outlining his well-build frame and his dark, curly hair like a halo.

She could be losing sleep for nights on end recalling that moment, because Jon's look in his eyes spoke of those horrid things that 'might've happened' the day before if it hadn't been for him. Then, Marian just stopped complaining and accepted the deal: Jon would take her to the woods whenever she would need it, protect her and help her whenever it was possible.

Lord Stark had previously thought of it and had spoken to Jon aside to arrange the deal the night before, right after dinner. Apart from Jon's sudden tell-tale blushing in front of his father, he had never hesitated one bit to accept the job. He had been on board from the very start. And Lord Stark hadn't hesitated either even though Jon had behaved as aggressively as Theon. But he was different.

Lord Stark knew Jon was and would always be different. Besides, Lord Stark was extremely good at those things which weren't actually said: he had sensed that Jon was feeling attracted to that young lady and, in spite of seeing that attitude as a potential problem, he had smiled at himself and had blessed the current state of affairs and that handy agreement.

"Are you ready, Marian?" Jon whispered gently to her standing from the door.

"Yes, Jon. I just need my cloak and we're good to go." She replied gently as she smiled to him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Once they had set off to the woods on their respective horses and had entered the forest, Jon was less tense than at the beginning and Marian noticed it immediately. He was more at ease and at peace, as if he belonged here, which gave her a new impression of him.

She smiled to herself wondering whether Jon had ever been so close to or responsible for protecting a woman or a girl… in such a place like the forest or under the silent scrutiny of those gossipy townsfolk who surrounded him every day. Probably not. She remembered him at dinnertime. He looked rather distant, silent and prudish – except when he had tempted to beat the hell out of Theon like the day before. That version of Jon was a fearful thing to behold… She shivered at the mere thought, although looking at the whole situation from a distant perspective – now that she wasn't in any real danger – she found Jon's concern rather warming.

Out of the blue, she noticed that a white direwolf was guarding them from a certain distance.

"Is that a direwolf?!" She exclaimed to Jon in pure, unadulterated amazement.

"Yes, it's Ghost." He said quite naturally, which left her puzzled. "My direwolf."

"_Your_ direwolf? Your _pet_?! _Seriously_?" She said amazed, with her jaw dropped open.

Jon didn't answer to her incontrollable fit of disbelief and astonishment. Instead, he just called his dear furry friend to come closer so that she could look and check the truth of the matter on her own. Once Ghost had come to Jon, he dismounted and petted him for a while as he glanced back at Marian just for the sheer pleasure of knowing that he was capable of impressing her. And indeed he felt the wave of warmth when she was staring silently smiling at both of them.

"A direwolf for a pet: you Winterfell people are crazy… but _cool_-crazy." She concluded as she dismounted too.

At that Jon chuckled quite amused. Suddenly, Ghost felt Marian approaching and ignored Jon for a while as he froze and stared at her. She stopped walking towards them, hesitating and wondering whether she had done something wrong. She didn't want to upset a direwolf… But before she could utter any word, Ghost came closer to her bit by bit, smelt her skirt and then searched for her palm with his nose. Once he found her left hand, he slid his nose into her palm and dragged his whole head into it, as if asking to be petted by her.

"_Oh dear,_ isn't this sort of… _straightforward_ or what?" She asked Jon and then chuckled.

"It _is_, actually… I've never seen Ghost require to be petted like this. _Ever_." Jon replied dumbfounded.

"I guess there's a first time for everything."

At that Jon blushed, but he still couldn't believe that Ghost had managed to get that amount of attention and affection from her on the very same moment he had met her. Was that a spark of jealousy? The question struck him quite deeply, and yet he could see nothing wrong in the fact that his pet was suddenly fond of the most attractive, gentle and smart woman he had ever met in his entire life.

He couldn't blame the animal for that. He would've asked to be petted too if he were in his… _paws_, of course.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Some days went by and the routine was established: mornings were devoted to Marian's herb-gathering trips to the woods with Jon, afternoons were meant to be for those who needed medical assistance, and the evenings were perfect for experimenting, reading and learning in Maester Luwin's study room.

Once or twice a day, Jon would come by with some semi-plausible excuse and take the chance to speak to Marian for a bit. Maester Luwin thought that he had never seen him so happy in his entire life, but he never left them alone for much time. In some of those occasions, very few of them, Jon would drop by with his brother Robb, who also displayed a great deal of interest in the new girl in town. He'd feel a lot freer than his brother Jon when speaking to her, but Jon never hated Robb for a single second; or envied him much for it.

At least that was what Marian thought of their relationship.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Marian," Ros whispered to her with dread and worry, sweating all her fear through the pores on her skin. "what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Don't worry." Marian whispered back seriously, with the adrenaline rushing through her veins, aiming an intimidating knife to a man's throat from behind as if she had done it several times before. "I can handle this."

That man, fat and almost bald, had attempted to rape Ros outside the brothel, in a dark alley beside it to be more precise, and luckily Marian had witnessed enough to know it would've ended badly for her, so she had decided to intervene.

"Holy… _fuck_…" Those were the only words that Ros managed to utter.

"As for _you_," Marian addressed her voice to the man with a dreadful, husky voice. "don't you dare treat my friend like that. We don't like your sort here. This is only a warning. Don't you dare to come back again… _Or else_…"

Having said that, she made as if she was just about to cut his throat in earnest – and the poor guy shrieked and pissed his pants. Marian smiled devilishly and let him go. His face was a map towards fear and madness.

Once he had fled running like a child, both Marian and Ros chilled out a bit.

"You can be really _dangerous_ if you want to…" Ros whispered back to her in awe. "_Geez_, thanks. I owe you _big time_."

"Don't mention it. That's nothing." Marian said casually, but it was too obvious that her actions were trained and practised, which meant that that kind of situations had happened quite often in her life.

Ros was wondering whether Marian was as meek and prudish as she initially thought she was. That rough, violent side of hers could be easily cloaked under her beautiful feminine attributes, so much so that she would never ever give the impression that she was strong or daring to face an enemy at a physical level. Ros marvelled at the thought that she might be the only one who knew this wonderfully dark side of her newest friend.

But Marian had a complex personality. She had mixed feelings about her actions in such cases: on the one side, she felt empowered and free, and she needed to protect herself, of course; on the other hand, she was a doctor's apprentice and, therefore, she hated attacking or hurting people – killing them was obviously out of the question. Her threats were always empty, and yet she was able to act as if she could muster all her strength and do the dirty deed as if she didn't actually care. It was purely an act – and it had worked every single time.

But some fellows were harder to trick or handle. Marian instantly thought of Theon: he was different and she had known it since the moment they had met. And he had confirmed it during their meals. His actions, his moves, his deviant smiles… He had instilled a brand new sense of fear she was not familiar to. She hated to admit it but her guts were telling her that that was no normal young man with 'normal' testosterone-driven thoughts. She knew she had to be a lot more careful than she usually was.

After all, that wasn't Qarth.

That was Westeros.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

One day, Marian was searching for herbs and plants while Jon and Ghost were watching over her. Somehow it seemed to Jon that he had seen a shadow, as if something had moved behind some distant bushes. Thus, darker shades took over his features just like the first time she had seen him face Theon, which made Marian feel extremely worried.

"Are you sure, Jon?" She asked him whispering. "Theon saw us leaving together this morning, as usual. The whole town knows you're watching over me. He wouldn't be that stupid, would he?"

"I'm not so sure." He frowned and was speaking sternly. "Ghost has gone to check on it. He knows what to do, but if it's Theon I want him to learn the lesson from _me_. Do you mind if I go myself?"

"Sure, just go. I'm not moving from here…" She added scared, remembering _that_ anger- and testosterone-driven Jon Snow whom she feared so much, and then she whispered when he no longer could hear her: "Be careful."

All of a sudden, being alone in the woods didn't seem a good idea. It wasn't the first time she was alone in the woods doing her job, but having Jon and Ghost by her side had instantly had a soothing effect on her since the very first day. She felt more at ease, relaxed and she could concentrate more on what she was doing. Suddenly, once both of them were gone, she didn't feel safe at all, as if none of her previous experiences in the woods had ever happened.

The whistling wind which combed the branches and leaves made her feel uneasy and scared. She gasped at every little noise around her. She didn't even trust the never-ending rustling sound of the water from a brook nearby. She squatted down beside a large bush. Fear had easily crept into her heart and she swallowed hard while she was trying hard to convince herself that she had done it before, that she was brave, that she could be alone and defend herself. She remembered she had a knife under her skirt; she decided to get hold of it and be ready for anything.

But there was no time to focus on her fears: she distinctly heard a little branch crack some feet away from her and what seemed a hesitating footstep right after that. Marian hardly breathed due to the tension and drew the blade, which shone sinfully under the sunlight. Why did she feel so threatened all of a sudden? She was used to hearing sounds in the woods. It was probably an animal or a fallen branch or… It could be _anything_ but not necessarily Theon.

Had he really made such a powerful impression on her that now she was unable to feel safe and sound on her own? For real?

Unexpectedly, the largest bush by her side started to move and she shrieked once in response. The cry pierced Jon's ears and he ran back to her – having found nothing and no one where he had gone –, only to realise that the one who had caused all the panic had been his younger sister Arya all along.

"Arya!" Marian exclaimed. "What are you doing here?! Good Gods, you scared the hell out of me!"

"Arya!" Jon exclaimed too, putting his sword back into the sheath with mildly repressed anger. "What the f*!" He omitted the swearword and sighed, and then he came a bit closer but stopped halfway.

"I'm… sorry. I just…" Arya tried to apologise to her brother.

"Relax, both of you." Marian said trying to soothe the siblings and herself while she put the knife back under her skirt. "Everybody's fine. Nothing has happened."

"It _could've_." Jon replied rashly and darkly.

"But nothing _has_." She insisted. "It's alright, Arya. Tell me, why were you hiding from us? Were you following us?"

Arya admitted that she had indeed, because she was intrigued by Marian and what she was supposed to do in the woods. Marian told her of her herb gathering and showed her her bag full of different plants and flowers.

"And you'll use these to cure people?" Arya asked marvelled, and her eyes were glittering as if she was looking at the sole holder of a gift for miracles. That look made Jon calm down for good. He couldn't be angry at his little sister when she was like that: "Can you cure anything?"

That question made Marian's features ache with a pain she had never experienced before.

"Not _everything_, sweetie. But I'm trying." She answered with sadness.

"The people in town are so wrong…" Arya whispered in awe as she kept staring at the plants and flowers Marian had collected. Her fringe was a bit long and kept annoying her over her eyes, but it made her look adorably rebel.

"Arya, what are you talking about?" Marian asked genuinely intrigued.

"The people… They've been talking meanly every day since you started going to the woods with Jon." Arya added straightforwardly.

"Oh, _great_…" Jon interrupted with sarcasm in his voice. "I can see where this is going." Then he chuckled.

"They've been saying that Jon would _touch_ you." Arya whispered to Marian. "But I didn't believe it. Jon's good, unlike most men around here."

"_Touch_ me? You mean… you know what you're talking about, young lady?!" Marian couldn't believe that Arya, being so young, would actually know what intercourse was.

All of a sudden, Jon punched a tree trunk in anger. Then, he just gave the girls his back, tried to chill out, sighing only once. Marian began to understand that that might be the usual social treatment he received in Winterfell due to being a bastard.

"I really wish he had, though." Arya concluded straightforwardly.

"_What_?!" Both Jon and Marian yelled in unison, blushing. Jon even turned around to stare at his little sister in disbelief.

"_Yeah_, because then you'd never leave." Arya elaborated her answer pleased as Punch as she stared at Marian with fake-pledging, glowing puppy eyes. "I've overheard father and Maester Luwin talking about you, Marian. They value you a great deal… So if Jon had _touched_ you, you'd have to marry him and stay here. I'd be your sister in law… and later I'd become an aunt. That'd be so _cool_." Arya smiled as if she couldn't help feeling happy at the prospect.

Both young adults were flabbergasted by Arya's sudden blunt, family-planning attitude. Apart from blushing wildly and being unable to meet each other's eyes for a while, the only one who managed to go on speaking was Marian:

"Very well, miss." Marian went on rather motherly but seriously. "I see you've got great plans, but you _don't_ know my current state of affairs back home and besides…"

That last bit had made Jon shiver inside. There was something dark and cold laughing at him from his very core.

'Her current state of affairs back home?' He thought with regret and fear. 'What does that mean? Is she _engaged_? It shouldn't surprise me… But she doesn't carry a ring or anything of the sort.'

At that, the dark and cold _thing_ that he felt deep inside him laughed at him the hardest and plunged an invisible sword into the depths of his heart, as if telling him to stop fantasizing about her. In the meantime, Marian went on speaking to Arya quite seriously. It was obvious that she wanted the topic dead and buried already.

"We'll talk about this issue when you're older and you meet a man who might be worthy of your affection. Then we'll see if you speak so _freely_ about it. Now, let's go back home, all right?"

Having said that, Marian led Arya to the horses. Jon sheepishly followed both of them in silence, as if he was afraid to be seen. Once they got near the horses, Marian assumed that Arya would ride with her step-brother, but Arya kept staring at her very intensely and smiling broadly as if silently asking Marian to ride with her.

"You must be kidding me." Marian whispered while rolling her eyes. "Look, love, I really like you, but you should ride with your step-brother."

"_Brother_." Arya complained with pride. "And I want to ride with _you_, pretty please!" She begged rather childishly.

"O-K…" Marian replied hesitating as she stared back at Jon as if asking him whether she should comply with his sister's wish. "If Jon's alright with it."

He just nodded and smiled very briefly, a sudden cloud of sadness veiling his eyes for a second or two, which made Marian freeze on the spot. Was something the matter? Had she done or said something wrong or that would offend him?

As they rode back to Winterfell, Marian began to worry: she assumed his daily routine was bad enough as it was, she shouldn't make it worse. She felt remorse like never before, although she knew it wasn't her fault – at least not directly. She was even thinking about telling Lord Stark about it.

Apart from that, Arya was elated by the adventure she had just taken part in. Somehow Marian correctly guessed that Arya would soon try it again and spy on both of them whenever she could escape her daily obligations with her mother and her nanny. Marian sighed as she helped Arya dismount her horse and, as soon as she let her go, Arya started running away giggling.

"At least, Arya won't say a word about this." Marian whispered to Jon a bit later, once they were alone in Maester Luwin's study room. She was unloading the vegetal contents of her bag on the huge wooden table. "She won't tell on us because she just loves to feel the adventure. She'll do it again, you know."

"That wasn't an adventure." Jon added rather sternly, staring at her while she classified all those herbs on the table.

"I know, but she doesn't know the difference, which is a relief, really." She went on trying to soothe him.

"If she knew, she could get into real trouble." He added, unaffected by her gentle words and voice.

"If she knew, she _would_ definitely get into real trouble." Marian tried to smile back at him while mimicking his comment, but his serious attitude made her back off. Then, she whispered with a deeply-concerned, apologetic look: "Anyway, Jon, I…"

"You really make an impression on Arya." He suddenly whispered at her warmly. "It's been less than a week since you're here and yet she clings to you more than any other of her siblings. That conversation about… growing up and… womanly affection… was brief but impressive. Other women would've shunned the subject from the very start. Instead, you've given her an answer. And you've shared what you do with her. No one has ever treated her like an equal. I think you're more like a role model to her, actually."

He was a lot calmer then, like his old, woods self, but in fact he was trying to get around to ask her about what she had actually meant by 'her current state of affairs back home'. He was dying to know about it.

"I'd say that what I've said is a bit of an understatement… or a polite way to get around the subject." Marian concluded about her conversation with Arya.

"She looks up to you. She adores you. It's easy to see why. I don't blame her…" He added then while staring at her, noticing she was upset. "or _you_."

"I don't mean to take your place." She suddenly said seriously.

"What?" He asked wondering what she was talking about.

"First Ghost, then Arya… both looking for my affection instead of yours." She couldn't meet his eyes while she was saying those words. "I don't want you to think that I'm stealing anything from you. I've noticed your daily routine is quite hard as it is."

"That, er…" He realised what she meant and shied off too. He stared at the floor while he avoided eye contact with her.

"Does it bother you?" She went on quite clumsily and shyly. "I didn't mean to take that away from you, seeing that your social life is so… _burdensome._"

"Nice wording." He said right after he chuckled once. His unruly black curls stopped shielding his eyes from her as he looked at her. They were gentle and warm, and he was warmly smiling again. "It almost feels as if it doesn't really _burden_ me that much when you express it that way."

Silence fell on both of them like a thin, delicate spider web, but it was somehow comfortable.

"Anyway, I don't feel like you're taking my place." He concluded warmly.

"I'm sorry about what people say." She said with sadness, putting the herbs into little piles according to species on the table.

"They started long before you arrived here." He added if it didn't matter while staring at her hands while doing her job. "Don't worry. It's not your fault."

"How can you bear it?" She asked not thinking twice about it, stopping her hands for a second. "Forgive me. Maybe I just shouldn't ask these things. Sorry."

"No… it's fine, Marian." He said as if he was apologising himself. "Don't worry about it." His voice was darker than before, which made her shiver and return to herb classification. Only the Old Gods knew how much he had suffered. "There's nothing to be done, so the less you worry about it, the better."

"Anyway," She managed to say a bit later, although her hesitation was still lingering on her soft lips. "if there's anything I can do, just let me know."

That comment made Jon feel weak as if he had never been an adult and still was a mere child looking for a mother figure to rely on. She had really made an impression on him. His eyes possessively glued themselves on her slender figure as she went on classifying herbs and flowers on the large study table. Oblivious of his staring, she just concentrated on her work and started to prepare an extract liquid out of one of those fresh specimens.

Jon came closer to her by the table. He noticed her thin waist, her agile hands, her delicate neck, her lush mane of dark hair.

"Why do you insist on treating me differently?" Jon asked rather naively as he examined one of those leaves she had cautiously put on a pile on the table. He could smell the genuine odours of nature on those leaves… and her.

"I'm not treating you differently – from other people, that is – which is ironic because the other people _do_ treat you differently, but not me." She commented with a smile on her face.

"But why?"

"Does sickness treat you differently from the rest?" She bluntly asked him.

"No."

"If you get a cold, are you stronger (or weaker) than the rest of human beings? If you have an accident, wouldn't you break a leg or an arm like anyone else? If you get hurt, don't you bleed? I'm a doctor, Jon. Well, I _want_ to be one. My only bias is against illness and pain."

"I see." He whispered smiling.

At that moment Maester Luwin came in and, happy to see them, he greeted both of them with a satisfied tell-tale smile on his face. At that, Jon blushed mildly when he realised what Maester Luwin might think of him and their trips to the woods, whether he thought he'd behave with dishonour like the rest of the townsfolk said or whether he hadn't paid any heed to those ill comments at all.

For a fraction of a second, he wondered what he could've done to her in the woods or even in Maester Luwin's study room had he been another type of man, a full-blooded noble with more lust than reason in his mind… And suddenly that large, thick, wooden table seemed appealing for other purposes than just a surface which you could classify herbs and read books on.

He immediately shook that nasty thought of his head and bid Marian and Maester Luwin farewell. He still wanted to know about her mysterious state of affairs, but then, with Maester Luwin present, it was out of the question. Marian couldn't help but wondering what his hasty rushing out of the room was all about.

"I gather you had an uneventful morning in the woods." Maester Luwin told her. "Jon's doing a great job, I presume."

"Indeed. Jon has helped me a lot. But something has actually happened in the woods today. I'm afraid I should tell you."

"Oh." His face became stern and extremely serious.

"No, it's not what you think or the people around town say!" She rushed to clarify. "Jon is the most honest man I've ever met! It's something else… Please don't tell Lord Stark yet, but… Arya was spying on us. She's bored. Being locked up all day every day doing chores must be exhausting. So she followed us into the woods because she wanted to experience an adventure. I'm not justifying her. She could've got hurt – and she should probably be punished –, but she's just in need of something more. I was wondering whether I could take her into the woods from now on, or maybe just a day or two, with Lord Stark's permission, that is. I'd take care of her personally. Master Luwin, could you omit today's incident and just mention this to Lord Stark as if I had initially thought of it, please Maester Luwin? I'd be eternally grateful."

"I'll see what I can do, but I can't promise you anything, Marian."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"I'm sorry, Marian, but the answer sadly is no." Maester Luwin told her a few hours later, that same afternoon. "As you said, I've said nothing about today's incident in the woods with Arya, but Lord Stark won't allow her outside the walls of Winterfell."

Maester Luwin had been talking to Lord Stark over the course of lunch that same day while the Stark offspring, Theon, Jon and Marian were eating and chatting, and then Maester Luwin delivered the news to Marian in his study room a bit later.

"I should've imagined that." Marian said sighing. "She'll be disappointed."

"This is not about disappointment, it's about safety." Maester Luwin insisted.

"You know she'll try again nonetheless, right?"

"I do." He replied with repressed sadness.

"She might get hurt." She insisted with worry.

"She'll learn, I hope." Maester Luwin concluded as if begging to a higher authority for a miracle.

"I hope so, too." She concluded too.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Later that evening right before dinner, in Maester Luwin's study room, Marian was alone reading a book on traditional medicine by candlelight, although she couldn't concentrate much on the activity since Maester Luwin had told her the bad news, when suddenly there was a soft knocking on the door.

"Who is it?" She asked neutrally, thinking it might be a medical emergency. There had been quite a few that afternoon. At that hour, only the Gods knew what had happened.

"It's me, Jon. May I come in, please?" Jon politely asked.

"Sure! Come in!" She joyfully answered. She mentally cheered his company.

"I've… accidentally heard about your suggestion to take Arya with us into the woods so that she doesn't sneak out anymore." He immediately commented. He didn't want to beat about the bushes, obviously.

"And you've probably heard that the answer was _no_." She added seriously.

"So I guess this means… that you and I are going alone into the woods." Jon said hesitating as if he was ashamed of saying those words, while he was coming closer to her.

"It means that Arya will try her best to sneak out and give us a heart attack, _yes_. Of this I'm sure." Marian said trying not to be angry while closing the book she had been reading. Her eyes were the pure vision of tiredness and worry. "This smells like disaster already!"

"Why? She's perfectly capable of escaping from Winterfell's walls and sneak out into the woods like this morning unharmed. I'll be on the lookout. Don't worry." He tried to soothe her, to no avail.

"Don't tell me not to worry!" She said nervously while she stared right at him not believing what she was hearing from his mouth. Her anger was gearing up. "At this hour, more and more people know about this. Even you've accidentally heard about it. Don't you think this piece of news might get to the wrong set of ears? Then what? I didn't mean to threaten anyone but when I said she might get into trouble I said it in earnest. _Real earnest_."

"As Lord Stark's daughter, she…" He said, but he was unable to finish because he knew where this was going. He swallowed hard.

"That's right. She's _valuable_. You've _thought_ about it. Now _say_ it yourself. She could get kidnapped. Or worse. Nobody's willing to listen to me, an outsider. Maybe _you_ can make them." She made a pause and sighed, defeated. Jon's countenance became grim. She had to make herself remember that she didn't want to mention his social position and, therefore, upset him because of it. She hesitated and then she concluded, almost whispering in a defeated tone. "But nothing will go wrong if we just stay inside the walls of Winterfell, right?"

"You mean we should never go back to the woods?" He asked wide-eyed as if he couldn't believe it. His heart seemed to freeze all over, like a pond during winter: he had spent the whole day thinking about their next trip to the woods as if he couldn't stop thinking about it, looking forward to it with all his heart from the very moment they had come back before lunch. That was what went through his mind every day actually: he just lived waiting for the next morning with her in the woods. And now… all his joy was gone, vanished.

"Maester Luwin is too old to gather these herbs himself and I can't as long as Arya is willing to chase me around. What a blow for me…" She whispered sadly, closing her eyes, which made him frown. It was obvious that she was stuck in her progress of developing a cure. "Now what?"

"What shall we do then? You need herbs and plants to cure people, don't you?" He asked alarmed, and even though he had used the pronoun 'we' in his first question, he didn't regret it, especially when she didn't look at him weirdly or made him rectify like the rest of the world did. "And to develop that medicine you need, right?"

"I…" She was hesitating, as if something painful was secretly locked in her heart. It was obvious that she was holding something back from him. He wondered at her painful facial expression. He had never seen such a level of grief. Had it something to do with her state of affairs back home? Was something the matter? Then she just sighed and said calmly: "I guess I could just teach you which plants to get for me."

At that, Jon instantly knew for a fact that she was hiding something. She was avoiding a painful subject. He knew she was thinking about something else she was not willing to tell him. He frowned, but his concerns could not develop into something more palpable because Marian's eyes were waiting for an immediate answer from his lips.

"Nonsense." He just briefly answered, as if she was playing a trick on him.

"You've seen how I do it." She insisted joyfully, coming a bit closer to him. "It's so easy. You just have to gather the same herbs I have here, plus some others. You've seen where and how I do it."

"Only for a few minutes!" He complained.

"Every day for almost a week! You'll be fine!" She cheered with enthusiasm.

"No, I'm not taking this responsibility. What if I do it wrong? No… No, no, no…" He was panic-stricken.

"Jon, please…It's not difficult. Please, reconsider." She begged. At that, Jon's eyes widened. He had never expected to hear a woman begging him to do something for her. _Never. _He swallowed hard and found himself unable to think or answer her delightful plea. "Please, for me… If not, I don't know what I'll do."

"I'll get you out of here. Arya won't be _this_ obsessed with you for long, I hope." He whispered trying to change the subject. "Unless…"

"Unless what?" Her eyes glittered with an unrivalled hope.

"I have an idea." He said with determination, but suddenly happy while intensely staring at her. "Let me handle this."

Thus, he drew a large smile on his face which shone down on her and then he left the study room as fast as he could. That smile really had made a strong impression on her, as if all her pain and worry could be instantly removed.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary**: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC

**Disclaimer**: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Previously…**

"Nonsense." He just briefly answered, as if she was playing a trick on him.

"You've seen how I do it." She insisted joyfully, coming a bit closer to him. "It's so easy. You just have to gather the same herbs I have here, plus some others. You've seen where and how I do it."

"Only for a few minutes!" He complained.

"Every day for almost a week! You'll be fine!" She cheered with enthusiasm.

"No, I'm not taking this responsibility. What if I do it wrong? No… No, no, no…" He was panic-stricken.

"Jon, please…It's not difficult. Please, reconsider." She begged. At that, Jon's eyes widened. He had never expected to hear a woman begging him to do something for her. _Never. _He swallowed hard and found himself unable to think or answer her delightful plea. "Please, for me… If not, I don't know what I'll do."

"I'll get you out of here. Arya won't be _this_ obsessed with you for long, I hope." He whispered trying to change the subject. "Unless…"

"Unless what?" Her eyes glittered with an unrivalled hope.

"I have an idea." He said with determination, but suddenly happy while intensely staring at her. "Let me handle this."

Thus, he drew a large smile on his face which shone down on her and then he left the study room as fast as he could. That smile really had made a strong impression on her, as if all her pain and worry could be instantly removed.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 3: Clingy**

During dinner, Jon refused to talk to his siblings, as usual. Marian guessed his isolation was the bastard thing over and over again. His only means of communication was an occasional deadly stare at Theon every now and then. He had stared at him like that ever since that dreadful encounter in the corridor a few days ago. In spite of that 'normal' behaviour on his behalf, she kept wondering what Jon had thought of to stop Arya from following them to the woods from then on. He was suddenly so happy in the study room only a few minutes ago – he knew him so little and yet she had the impression he was never happy. Ever.

When the dinner was over, Marian bumped into Ros in the corridor, who seemed to be in a slightly bad mood. She had to spend the night with Theon, but she admitted she was getting weary of him. As far as her opinion was concerned, he was rather clingy. She didn't want any kind of emotional attachment, although the incoming money was good. That's what being a slut was all about, according to her.

"Just send another girl instead of you." Marian told her as a suggestion.

"It doesn't work like that. Customers are really picky, and if you don't go and send someone else instead, then they might not wanna do it. So no money, baby."

"That's… _stupid_." Marian complained. "They just need to _fuck_, don't they?"

"Then the whole world is stupid." Ros complained.

"I guess so." Marian made a brief pause, only to break it when she had a brilliant idea. "Do you mind if we try something, though? I think I've got an idea which might just work. But I can't show you here."

"A smart _gurl_. _Niiice_…" Ros gave her one of her lusty stares and took her hand. "Tell me about it at _my_ place. Let's go!"

Ros was about to drag Marian with her when she had to stop:

"What about your 'date' with Theon?" Marian asked with worry.

"He can 'date' himself _off_ for one night." Ros replied with cheek, as usual.

Ross obviously meant to say 'fuck' instead of 'date', but she just loved being sassy and she couldn't help it. Therefore, Ros pulled Marian's hand towards her and, with a youthful, insane, low giggling, she rushed out into the streets leaving no sign, no tracks, nothing behind in their light, hurried pace.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Theon spent half the night raging in his bedroom and the other half, sleeping due to boredom.

In the meantime, Jon was getting ready to perform his plan so that the next morning both Marian and he could go out to the woods alone. So he smiled warmly as he approached Arya in her bedroom after dinner.

"Arya," He whispered gently, but seriously, standing by her door. "you're older than you look and I'm not going to pretend that you don't understand what I'm about to say. I need to speak to you."

Her full attention never faded for a second after that. Guaranteed.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In the meantime, Marian and Ros were developing Marian's plan with the help of the other girls. Not only Theon would be tempted to change and evolve, but also the rest of brothel visitors. That heavenly surprise would knock them out for good. In spite of old rivalries amongst the girls, the plan seemed to unite them and create a strong, unbreakable bond. Marian knew that ensuring a healthy friendship between them was crucial to the aim they had in mind. They had to work together, otherwise it would not work. So they had decided to close the brothel for the night and work on that common project.

Thus, amongst piles and piles of multi-coloured strips the girls giggled as they sew them together to make sensual dresses as Marian told them. Even Ros insisted that Marian should make one for herself, which made her blush, but she never protested. Next, she told them that those kind of clothes were traditional in Qarth amongst dancers and she then proceeded to teach them how to sing and dance like a native from Qarth while wearing that indecent, cheeky, whorish clothing. The adjectives were _very Winterfell_ in attitude, since the concepts of fashion and propriety were quite different, but that didn't make Marian back off. The girls loved every bit of Marian's plan. And the dresses. _Especially_ the dresses. They made a huge progress in a few hours.

Marian told them to keep practising, since they were having an opening night at the brothel in 24 hours. The timing was a bit tight, but they had learned the basics quite fast and none of them saw any problem with that. Some girls were preparing a stage at the back of the largest room of the brothel, with large curtains and candles. When Marian felt sleepy – it was half past three in the morning already – and she was about to leave because there was nothing left to be done, Ros stopped her.

"Hey Marian!" Ros yelled right before Marian opened the door. "Will you tell Jon to come?" She asked with a naughty smile on her face.

"Jon? What for?" Marian asked naively.

"Oh…, _come on_, Marian!" Ros insisted with vehemence, giggled and stared indecently at her. "_He_…"

"Ros, stop it this instant!" Marian realised what Ros had in mind.

"The day we met you said you were not a saint. _Prove it_." Ros pushed her while crossing her arms over her chest. "Dance with us and tell Jon to come."

"No. No, no, no, no – it doesn't work like this." Marian replied nervously.

"_Yes, it does_. Those moves of yours on the dancefloor were… _Well_… _Inspiring_ in terms of the mind's eye of men. _Oh_…, _relaaax_, baby girl." She winked at her, but since Marian was frowning at her quite sternly, she sighed and admitted the truth. "Anyway, Jon's not a favourite around here. In fact, he _never_ comes around here."

"Never?" Marian asked whispering in awe.

"_A-ha_, sweetie, _NEVER_." Ros answered smiling with naught. "Suddenly interested, Marian?"

"Oh, shut up! I'm not dancing tomorrow!"

With that angry comment, she left in a rush and a blush.

But Ros had something wicked in mind as she smirked deviously at the closed door.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The sun was shining bright the next day at dawn and Jon hurried down the corridors to get to Marian as soon as possible. He had had a restless night because he couldn't stop thinking about Marian and whether his plan would actually work. It was before breakfast and only a handful of servants were awake and moving about, but he had to _see_ her. That was why he decided, though hesitating, to knock the door of her bedroom.

"W-who's there?" Marian asked mildly alarmed and sleepy. She wasn't expecting anyone so early in the morning. Besides, she had gone to bed so late at night…

"It's me, Jon." He answered almost whispering and feeling childish. "I think my plan's going to work. We can go to the woods to fetch more herbs, if you want, that is."

"But… now?! I'm barely dressed… not to mention awake." At that she yawned feebly and he blushed violently as he thought of her in such a state. "Must we leave so early today? Sorry, I went to sleep late last night. I was helping Ros."

"Helping Ros late at night?" He repeated in confusion. "What for?"

"Oh, Jon. You definitely don't wanna know about that, I swear." She giggled a bit without any malice, but he blushed even more. Then, she couldn't help remembering Ros' insinuations and blushed too. "I'm curious about your mysterious plan. Let me get dressed. I'll be ready in five minutes."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

As promised, five minutes later she came out of her bedroom fully dressed and refreshed. Her black curls looked lovely over the baby blue cloak on her shoulders.

"Jon…" Marian called him opening and closing her bedroom door. "I'm ready. Let's g-"

"Helping Ros?! Late at night?!" Jon suddenly cut her, still unable to process that information. "Now I get why Theon was so quiet in his room. Ros was with _you_!"

"Are they usually _loud_?" She dared to ask.

"_Yeah_,…" He whispered quite lowly, his cheeks blushing into such a fluorescent colour which was actually out of any humanly healthy spectrum. "almost every night."

Both of them started imagining stuff as regards what Ross and Theon were actually capable of doing in his bedroom when suddenly a cock announced a new dawn. That restored a rational, socially acceptable attitude in them. All of a sudden she felt awkward, as if she just shouldn't ask that kind of things. Why didn't she just try to be more careful and think things twice before opening her mouth?

"OK… Changing the subject, will you spill the beans about your plan or not?" She asked smiling warmly to him. "I'm curious." She added joyfully, as if singing.

"Only if you tell me what you did with Ros last night." He insisted seriously worried, still blushing a bit. "H-has she… has s-s-she…" He licked his lips once, hesitating. "…has she _touched_ you? Do you like…?" He rushed the question out of his lips as if he couldn't bear the sound of any of those letters.

"No!" She complained playfully, trying to hide the fact that she felt the issue was getting too intimate. "Of course _not_!" But then she tried to chill out and regain her composure and continued thus: "Ros was worried that Theon might get too attached to her. I came up with an idea to solve that. Now," She insisted. "what about this brilliant idea of yours? Give me a clue at least."

"Fine." He surrendered. Hearing about the cause behind her actions had somehow calmed him down a bit. "I want to know what you were doing yesterday! This isn't fair…, but I'll tell you my plan when we're in the woods."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A few minutes later, when they were deeply in the woods gathering herbs and plants of all sorts, Jon decided to tell Marian about Arya and his plan, but Marian was trying to guess what his plan was about before he could actually say a word about it:

"Arya needs some degree of adventure in her life." Marian stated matter-of-factly. "And she firmly believes that spying on us will sate her eagerness. I assume that you've got a plan which involves Arya, you and me probably. Giving her… cool, _non-girly _stuff to do so that she's not so clingy. Has she tried fencing? Archery? Have you devised some sort of treasure hunt for her? Or will you teach her to cleverly sneak out? Or maybe…"

"Not really." Jon replied not feeling satisfied by the level of sophistication that Marian was hoping to hear about. "It's not that complex."

"Not that complex? What do you mean?"

"I got the idea from a trickster, really." Jon admitted shamefully. "The simplicity of what he had done met the greatest efficiency. I was thunderstruck, amazed… To this day, I still admire him."

"A trickster?" Marian could hardly believe her ears. "I would never say you admired a trickster. What did he do?"

"He made a _deal_, like I did with Arya last night after dinner, with one of our fellow traders in Winterfell one afternoon during market day. He wanted to sell a goat which was very ill and could barely stand up. It was very skinny, it had some scars even, and it was said that it wouldn't survive for long. Some didn't even give the poor thing a few hours of life expectancy. The trickster insisted that the goat was lucky, that it had survived many pains and bad weather in this condition – and that it provided very fine milk. The man, hoping he'd get a bargain if the trickster told him the truth, said that if the goat that the trickster was selling him that afternoon was still alive the next dawn, he'd give him some ounces of gold and…"

"I thought it wasn't a complex story."

"It isn't. The man spent the night trying to back-stab the trickster by killing the goat himself while pretending its death had been natural. That way he'd win. The trickster, in the meantime, stole all his gold while he was taking care of the poor goat. There you go: simple."

"Oh, Jon, _pluh-zzzeeee_, come on!" Marian complained quite childishly while crossing her arms over her chest. "He was a mere thief. That's not admirable!"

"It is!" Jon insisted, smiling and fascinated by her tantrum. "He got what he wanted. He stole the stupid man's gold and… simply… _left_."

The last word echoed in the woods as they were staring at each other.

"He got what he wanted and _left_!" He insisted.

Marian fell silent, her eyes darkened a bit and suddenly understood why Jon was so fascinated by that stupid trickster:

"So that's why you're so caught up in this story:" She concluded dryly. "because _you_ also want something, but you can't even imagine yourself taking it and leaving."

They fell silent for a long time. She didn't elaborate it any further. There was no need to. Jon stood frozen when the sudden realisation that he was frustrated with his own life dawned on him. How come was it so palpable? So evident? Why was she so dammed clever?

"Honour bids me to act according to social conventions. I can't take what's not mine by right." Jon stated with pride, as if his life and his sanity depended on the logic of those words.

"And yet you're a bastard, a state of affairs which of course leaves you out of those social conventions behind which you shield yourself so proudly." She whispered seriously.

Silence again. By the old Gods, the wench had a blade for a tongue – that was what Jon couldn't help thinking.

"I can't and I won't act otherwise. I'm stuck." He said at last, avoiding her beautiful eyes.

"That's why you're eventually leaving for the Wall, right?" She whispered sadly.

"How do you know?!" He asked dumbfounded.

"Bastard, bad vibes in town, rather new _black_ clothing,… Need I go on?" Her voice seemed sadder then, and it made Jon sigh in defeat and regret being so transparent. Seeing that she was obviously pushing him too far, she coughed and changed the subject: "Anyway, what about Arya? What's the plan? Do you think it'll work?"

"The plan is going on as planned. We've already left before she realised about it." He said sombrely.

"Leaving her behind? That's it? You had a deal with her and you _betrayed_ her?" Marian asked simply dumbfounded and angry.

"Told you it was simple." Jon replied seriously.

"Arya may _still_ be willing to do something dangerous! That is the whole point!"

"Arya is usually asleep at this hour and, once she's woken up, she's bound to do chores. She's constantly being watched for a couple of hours. It's only until later that she's usually able to sneak out. That's what happened yesterday. By that time, we'll already be back." He tried to reason with her.

He waited for her to be convinced about it. She eyed him with honest doubts, until she eventually sighed and said thus:

"I trust you, Jon." Marian said softly, taking a couple of steps towards him. "I really hope it's enough to keep her safe."

Her voice and her face were warm and nice to him again, as if she was regretting she had taken the conversation into a too personal domain a few minutes ago. Jon realised of it and his eyes glowed in awe. His lips were unable to let his thoughts out, as usual, but when Marian warmly smiled back at him, his heart soared as if nothing wrong had ever happened in his entire life.

"Come on, let's go." Marian said with unrivalled joy. "I think I might be able to find a special type of flower if we reach the top of the mountains today. I've got a hunch!"

Seeing that she was happy as Punch, Jon even forgot to ask her about her own plan as regards Ros and Theon.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Marian had actually found that type of flower she was so enthusiastic about… at the top of a rocky, sharp-edged, needle-like crag. The snow-clad, deadly freezing environment didn't dishearten her at all. The heavenly, white-petalled flower was gracefully waiting for her to pick it up. Although it seemed out of reach, she just kneeled on a block of ice and stretched her right arm as far as she could to snatch it.

Jon was even holding his breath until she succeeded. He couldn't bear to see her take such childish risks, but her further investigations were at stake. She needed that damn flower. Only the Old Gods knew whether it was the key to get the cure she was hopefully looking for.

When she was just about to get it, the ice beneath her knees played a dirty trick on her: the ice broke and she slid down the slope and hurt herself on her right shoulder. Luckily it wasn't very high.

Jon rushed to aid her.

"I'm fine, Jon. Just…" Marian said making an effort. "… get the flower for me, please… The ice is unstable. We should get out of here as soon as possible. Be very… careful…"

At that, Jon hesitated for a split second, but he knew she was right and that she'd probably never forgive him if he didn't get the flower she coveted so much. That's why he rushed to get it and, as soon as he did it, he rushed back to Marian and, putting an arm round her back, helped her walk back to their horses, way down the mountain, duly waiting for them while their bridles were tied to a tree.

Once they reached the beginning of the woods, where the horses were, and Jon thought they were safe and sound, he stared at her as they were walking. He was still holding her. Her hair was mildly dishevelled and containing some rebel snowflakes. The fall had given her a charming blush on her cheeks – or so he thought. He smiled at her and chuckled as if he wanted to chide her because she had been acting like a foolish child.

"What?" Marian asked not really offended, looking straight at him. "Really what? I'm not laughing." Oh, but yes, she was. She couldn't help but mirroring his good mood.

Jon still had an arm wrapped around her back, his fingertips gently but firmly sinking in her clothing, and thought very deeply about what answer he could give her.

"For such a strong, independent, young lady like you, I honestly thought you'd be more careful."

"I _am_ careful. I just slipped. It was an accident."

"Can you ride on your own?" Jon asked her as they approached her horse.

"I'll try…" She tried to sound convincing.

A few minutes later, she found herself able to ride the horse on her own, but Jon couldn't help but checking on her every single second.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Maester Luwin was nowhere to be found. And Marian's shoulder ached like never before: it was dislocated and it needed urgent medical assistance which she couldn't provide to herself.

Jon's cold, hard fingers gently brushed Marian's naked right arm and shoulder, quite hesitantly since he was unsure whether he could actually do it. Embarrassment was the key trigger of his doubt, not his lack of medical knowledge.

Her mere presence had enlightened him every day ever since she came to Winterfell, and her voice had appeased and warmed areas of his mind and his heart which he didn't know that could be soothed. Subdued by his misery, he had long abandoned all hope and decided upon leaving for the Wall, a future which had risen his expectations on life – and yet right then, that fateful day, in Maester Luwin's study room, he couldn't bring himself to think about it, about leaving for the Wall and never seeing her again, as if the thought itself was toxic.

Marian was right at the centre of it, her naked arm and her injured and exposed shoulder trembling under his touch and leaving his mouth dry, as if she was the one and only sun he could ever live and thrive under. In contrast, the Wall seemed a sterile future.

But he couldn't daydream for much longer: she needed his help immediately.

"This will probably hurt." Jon whispered darkly.

"It will. I know." Marian replied also whispering, feeling weak at the prospect.

"You…" He sighed and swallowed once.

"Get on with it." She whispered bravely.

"On the count of three." As he whispered that sentence, he got a firm grip of her naked arm and shoulder with both hands, both motionless and devoid of life on purpose so that he could cure her.

She huffed and inhaled deeply. Then she just held her breath, waiting for the pain to overflow her and hoping Jon would be there to hold her and pick up the pieces if it was necessary.

"One,…" Jon whispered as if he was already regretting what he had to do. "two,…"

And then his grip on her got stronger and he fixed her dislocated shoulder with one bold, quick move. She immediately gasped due to the sudden, unexpected pain. Her head lolled for some seconds and Jon immediately held her from behind with his strong arms until she finally moaned very softly and exhaled once. She smiled to herself once she realised her shoulder was good as new. Jon had made a good job.

"You… said… on the count of three." She complained whispering very feebly. He briefly smiled at her hair and smelt her flowery essence.

In spite of the pain and the cold –or Jon's prudish hands which were still glued to her body–, she didn't complain and both remained still, standing, blissfully ignoring the lack of space between their bodies, as if time had frozen like water in the poodles outside. She was weary and her body had somehow lost all strength. All that weakness and her exposed skin…

Something deep in Jon's mind was making him feel right about something so wrong. He closed his eyes, frowned, and smelled her hair as deeply and silently as he could, engraving the smell on his brain.

Even though he was pressed to have more of her, he fought his urges, closed his eyes, let her sit on a chair and dropped his hands to either side of his body. After she had gently gasped due to the sudden lack of physical contact with him and the succeeding cold where his hands had formerly been, he moved aside and turned around so that he wouldn't see her as if guided by a morally-upright principle which couldn't be forsaken. Then, he stammered thus:

"Get dressed." After a brief pause of just a couple of seconds, he added quite sheepishly: "Are you OK?"

"Yes…" She whispered with glowing eyes and a thunderstorm in her veins and heart.

"See you later, then." He whispered dryly.

With that, he left in a hurry, never looking back at her. If he had turned around, he would've seen her high spirits in her bright eyes and the dejected look on her face once he had bidden her farewell so dryly.

Like a lost puppy, she just tried to focus on the immediate reality at hand and got dressed quite slowly, as if she was dumbfounded by his reaction. She still wanted to thank him for what he had just done to heal her, but then she didn't know whether she should do it or not, because his reaction had been so radically cold… after having been so radically intimate.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Her expectations had been a great source of inconveniences that day. Ever since what happened in Maester Luwin's study room that same morning, Marian felt awkward, fearing to meet Jon or look into his eyes whenever they'd meet again. Not only was she feeling dejected, but also afraid. But why?

The closeness had felt absolutely great. Sin had never been so appealing, and yet she felt as though Jon had been bothered by it. Of course, she knew about honour and all that. They had had that conversation already. But then again, Marian felt something crack right there. She also valued honour a great deal, but she would've had Jon right then and there, no questions asked.

His sudden departure had left many questions lurking in her mind. Had he ever been with a woman before? Did he fancy someone? Or rather, had he ever fancied someone? Probably he thought he couldn't afford it, since he was a bastard and all that. Or simply no one had ever noticed him or his needs as a man. She didn't even know whether his destination to the Wall was a path he had actually chosen for himself or not! The realisation that she lacked lots of basic information left her devastated, and yet she still sighed thinking of Jon as if she was just a stupid, prudish girl in love with a knight in shiny armour.

Stupid as it made her feel, she shook her head violently and frowning, as if she could shake those thoughts off.

But it would soon be lunchtime. Lunch. In the dining room. With all of the Starks and their closest fellow countrymen gathered.

Jon included.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Lunchtime arrived and Jon was nowhere to be seen.

Marian could only think of one reason for this, but she hopelessly tried to figure out what other potential reasons there could be to justify his absence. Arya had other plans, though:

"Marian," Arya called her attention with great care, whispering. "Jon lied to me yesterday. He told me to wait until my chores were done, that he'd be in the courtyard ready to take me to the woods with you, but you were already back when I was done!"

"I know, sweetie." Marian replied as if she was tired, also whispering.

"How dare he lie to _me_!" The younger one complained in anger. Marian was amazed to discover that none of it was her fault, according to Arya's point of view. "And you! What about you? Did you know?"

"No, I didn't. And he did it for a good reason."

"_Whatever_." Arya said flatly. "But I think I know why." She added whispering and devilishly smirking at Marian, who blushed a bit.

"Arya, stop thinking about _that_ this instant." Marian whispered back, chiding her. "It _didn't _happen."

"But it could've. I wasn't there to _bother_ you, so…" Arya added playfully. "I don't mind as long as you… You know."

"No, I don't know and you shouldn't be talking about these things so freely, miss!" Marian replied with anger, but still whispering.

"Hey, what are you whispering about? Anything interesting?" Sansa pointed out, feeling jealous of the level of privacy that Marian and Arya had.

Arya just smiled back at Marian. Robb had been silently staring at her for some time during dinner.

"It's nothing." Marian replied. "I was trying to make Arya understand that going to the woods can be dangerous, that's all."

"Marian is right." Sansa added scornfully at her little sister. "You should listen for a change, Arya. It would do you no harm."

Arya stuck her tongue out to her sister and Robb just chuckled.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

During the afternoon, Marian attended several people who suffered from different conditions under the supervision of Maester Luwin, who seemed very pleased to have such a skilful apprentice. All her patients seemed to fall automatically in love with her, as if they couldn't care less about what had been said about Jon and her around town ever since Jon was meant to take her to the woods and back. In addition, she made sure to point out the fact that Jon was a good man if she had the chance to do so, as if it was part of a normal, quite casual conversation. And it definitely worked.

When all the patients were gone, so did Maester Luwin, whose presence was deemed necessary at the side of Lord Stark, since he had some impending matters which needed urgent counselling. She didn't complain about him leaving her side, although she expected to have some time to learn medical stuff from him that afternoon, but it couldn't be helped. She could always read his books and ask him questions about them later. So that was what she did: she started reading a thick book by a soft candlelight.

Out of the blue, the door of the study room opened and Marian saw a robust hand and arm go through the threshold. He heart began to flutter, as if she couldn't contain her feelings. Suddenly, her awkwardness didn't matter. She admitted to herself that she wanted to see him again, no matter what. She marvelled at the thought and the wild beating inside her ribcage, but her joy died shortly afterwards when she saw that it wasn't Jon, but Theon.

"Hi there, _luv_." His rough voice greeted her with cheek, but not much. She became very aware (and afraid) that he might be after something from her. And, as usual, the hated appendix at the end: the three-lettered pet word which began with 'l'.

"What are you doing here, Theon?" She asked trying very hard to be polite to him even though she disliked him while he closed the huge wooden door behind him.

"No beating around the bush, huh?" He chuckled amused, smirking malevolently. "I wanted to know how attached you are to Ros."

"Attached?" She raised an eyebrow at him as he came a bit closer to her. She couldn't stop wishing Jon was there. "Don't beat about the bush yourself. Do you mean 'like' or 'fancy' her, for example?" She liked to play it daringly although it might mean dangerous, especially with Theon.

"That's _not_ what I meant, but now I'm curious. Do you?" He asked as he playfully circled his fingers on the surface of the table where she was reading.

"No, I don't fancy women." She made a brief pause and he smirked as he briefly looked at the table. "She's just a friend. Why are you asking? Are you jealous because the other day she decided to spend some time with me instead of you?"

"_Jealous_? Me?" He chuckled again. Marian decided he hated that sound. She considered the gesture too conceited, although it suited him, of course.

"Then what are you doing here? _Really_." She pushed him even though she knew it was a bad idea.

"I came to see you, luv." He said playfully as he came yet a bit closer to her sitting by the table. "Don't you like company?"

"Usually yes. I just happen to be very busy right now, Theon." She replied with a dry smile on her face.

"Reading, I see. How dull." He said bored, having a look over her shoulder. She felt the air growing colder and colder.

"Your brain is sterile. I know it seems dull to you." She said with sarcasm as she gently closed the book in front of her. Then, she decided to stand up.

"Don't even try to mock me like this, luv." He warned her with a deep, thundering voice. She could actually see his canines as he spoke.

"So you actually _are_ jealous, I see." She said daringly, although she felt threatened. Bravery didn't make her a fool. That was why she took a couple of steps away from him, grabbing the book and holding it with her warm hands, faking she wanted to leave it where it belonged in the shelves. She went on talking as if she actually didn't care about his presence: "You wouldn't be here talking about Ros to me if you could be banging her instead. Has she refused to see you? Again? Good Old Gods, you're so clingy…"

"Marian, I know you've told something to Ros that I can't figure out." His voice was half sad, half enraged. "She refuses to see me or talk to me. And the last person she's been talking to is _you_, luv. What am I to think?"

"Nothing. You're dumb." She said without thinking twice about it.

"_Ha-ha_. Very funny." He said trying to contain his anger, coming closer to her again. "You know what's going on and you're gonna tell me about it! Now!"

"You'll soon see what all is about." She said not really trying to tantalize him (although he thought so), just meaning it literally.

"Don't play games with me, Marian!" He whispered at her with anger as he towered over her and casted his shadow over her body. Since he was taller than her, it wasn't that hard. "I'm deadly serious…"

For a split second she hopelessly thought of Jon and Josua at the same time, being there to help her, to defend her, to save her if necessary. But she was alone.

She'd have to save her ass on her own.

Besides, she was a lady, she was in distress, but she didn't actually need a prince charming to save her. She had proven to herself that she could do it on her own.

"I am _deadly _serious, too." She said pushing herself away from him, coming closer to her chair again. Even though he was taller, she could be impressive when she spoke to him – and he saw it. His mightier physical appearance didn't make her back off. "Don't underestimate me, Theon. You definitely don't know who I am or what I'm capable of doing." She could really sound threatening if she was in the mood. "So shut the _fuck_ up and wait."

"_Tonight_, I guess. _Right_?" He said huffing in anger, as if he couldn't do anything else but wait.

At that, Marian smirked at him and continued speaking thus:

"Are you sure you haven't talked to Ros at all?" She asked playfully. "I didn't say anything about _tonight_…"

"She's sent me a stupid note, OK?!" He spat back at her straightforwardly.

"Oh, a note._ How interesting_. What does it say?"

"She's got a surprise for me, she says." He answered with pride while staring at her lush, soft lips. And then he added whispering in mildly repressed anger: "Which doesn't include _her_, she says." He said coming closer and closer.

"Don't get angry about stuff you still don't know anything about, Theon." She advised.

"I will if I _damned_ want to!" He yelled back at her even though they were very close to one another, standing by her chair.

"You don't need to." She added casually, not caring about his yelling and anger. "Just wait and see."

"Look, luv." He said darkly while he was getting his face too close to hers. "If I don't get to _fuck_ her tonight and you have _something_ to do with it, I swear to the Old Gods that you'll regret the day _this_ gorgeous ass was born –" and then he managed to give her a quick pinch on her ass, which made her shriek and blush. She didn't see that one coming. "and not even that _bastard lapdog_ will be able to save you."

"You're bluffing." She dared to reply.

"You know I'm _not_…" His voice was so threatening and sinful that she wanted to flee from the room as soon as possible. "_luv..._" That last word, the pet word she hated so much, was whispered close to her ear with such a slowness and intensity, so full of horror that it took her breath away – in an extremely negative way, of course.

Shortly after that, Theon left the study room, much to Marian's poor heart's relief.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Dinnertime arrived and Marian was still upset about Theon's confrontation in Maester Luwin's study room that afternoon. And Jon hadn't appeared either: he had made it a habit, coming in to say 'hi' or something during the afternoon. But that day he didn't.

Was he mad at her? Was he embarrassed to see her after what had happened? Was that the reason why he didn't come to dinner either?

Theon was glaring suspiciously at Marian all the time, and she could only hope he'd like what he'd see that night at the brothel. She hoped her plan might work, otherwise she'd wish she'd rather be dead. She shivered at the thought and wondered where Jon was. It was as if he had suddenly disappeared – and no one noticed his absence or asked anything about him. No one seemed to miss him. It gave Marian the terrible feeling that it was as if he had never existed at all, as if his existence was pointless.

An unbearable sadness overpowered the awkwardness which had been triggered in the morning and her afternoon fears. What a chaotic, depressing day! She hoped the night would provide some entertainment: she was determined to go to the brothel and see how the whole thing would develop with her own eyes. She'd be there for support, if needed. Ros was a good friend, in spite of her straightforwardness and social position.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It was way past midnight, at that imprecise hour when drunkenness and carelessness become the norm.

Soft, slow and lazy music was being played in the background, in the semi-darkness of that huge room, in that good-for-nothing, godforsaken corner of the world. Nobody cared to listen, oh, but soon they _would_. They: the lost, the proud or the careless trapped souls of that old brothel.

Winterfell's brothel was about to experience a revolution that night. It would soon no longer be simply called a brothel if the people realised what was really about to happen. But meanwhile the men were complaining, and Theon was among them. The girls were nowhere to be seen. Outrage filled their lungs and the men's whistling eventually became a deafening cry for attention.

In the backstage of that amateur, improvised stage made of spare parts of old tables, with huge red velvet curtains hanging from either side professing some silent, obscure secret, the girls were getting ready.

"Ros?!" Marian exclaimed hopelessly, coming in the backstage in a rush.

"_Yo_-What?!" Ros returned quite startled at her friend's sudden outburst while she was getting ready to dance.

"Saroah's leg is injured! She fell this afternoon! She can't dance!" Marian yelled in panic.

"Ah… Yes, I know!" Ros replied matter-of-factly and went on getting dressed.

"WHAT?!" Marian spit back at her like an angry mother. "Why didn't you tell me, you moron?!"

"Because you don't have to worry. It's _nothing_. She's taken care of it herself. It's all sorted." Ros replied with calmness.

"Oh, really? The first lady for the show is injured and I didn't devise a backup plan. No other dancer can perform the way she can. How will you solve this, pray?"

"Easy." Ros smirked devilishly. "_You_." She winked an eye at her.

Marian stared at her, blankly, at a loss about what to think, do or say. She was frozen at Ros's wickedness. The more she knew her, the darker and more sinful her image of her became. For a second, she thought that maybe Ros's mind had no boundaries or restraints at all when it comes to sex and being kinky.

"Me?" Marian whispered back hesitating, hoping she'd heard it wrong.

"Yeap!" Ros exclaimed happily.

"No _fucking_ way!" Marian replied in anger.

"Look who's speaking rogue now…" Ros chuckled after that.

"I've never spoken like a _high and mighty_ m'lady, so don't mock me, Ros! This is serious!"

"I know, but it is often _too obvious_ that you're the learned type. It won't do you no harm to play naughty for one night."

"No, Ros. Focus:" Marian went on worried like never before. "the plan was to direct Theon's attention from you to some other whore. He was getting too attached to you; and I'm awfully scared of him and hate him to the core. He's come to see me this afternoon, Ros! He's threatened me! Can't you see this is dangerous for me too?! So I'm not dancing in the leading role even though _I_ was the one who's taught you how to do it in the first place. So now what?! What are we going to do? I'm _not_ dancing! I don't want him to think that I'm available!"

"Of course you're _not_ available." Ros replied and fell silent, wearing a star-illuminated smile on her face, pregnant of a striking, wild idea of hers.

"What's that stupid, wicked smile of yours supposed to mean?" Marian asked meanly at her, crossing her arms over her chest.

"_Beware the wolf_, little red riding-hood Marian." Ros said coming dangerously closer to her and whispering it as if she was tantalizing her. "He may come to you and eat you whole tonight."

Both of them fell silent for some precious seconds. Marian's eyes glowed naively, but when she realised what Ros implied, that is _Jon_, she started stammering something incoherent which Ros couldn't make out.

"I know, babe." Ros replied as if she had understood Marian's babbling, mocking her. She gently got hold of both Marian's cheeks and added, whispering with a lust-geared determination: "_Get ready, Marian_…"

"He's not 'eating' me tonight!" Marian replied in anger, getting rid of Ros' hands on her cheeks.

"Get ready TO DANCE, Marian. We still need a leading dancer. And stop worrying about Theon: I have an idea." Ros replied matter-of-factly, as if all was under control.

Having said that, Ros threw a sexy dancing dress at Marian, smiled wickedly and left. Marian was left alone to change her clothes and pondered on whether Jon would be there for the show… or after it.

To eat her whole.

She sighed one lonely sigh.

That same morning she'd only told him that she was helping Ros, but she never actually mentioned the show, the day or the hour of the performance – and she didn't regret it. Therefore, how could he possibly be there that night?

Did she really need to worry about it?

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary**: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC

**Disclaimer**: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Previously…**

"What's that stupid, wicked smile of yours supposed to mean?" Marian asked meanly at her, crossing her arms over her chest.

"_Beware the wolf_, little red riding-hood Marian." Ros said coming dangerously closer to her and whispering it as if she was tantalizing her. "He may come to you and eat you whole tonight."

Both of them fell silent for some precious seconds. Marian's eyes glowed naively, but when she realised what Ros implied, that is _Jon_, she started stammering something incoherent which Ros couldn't make out.

"I know, babe." Ros replied as if she had understood Marian's babbling, mocking her. She gently got hold of both Marian's cheeks and added, whispering with a lust-geared determination: "_Get ready, Marian_…"

"He's not 'eating' me tonight!" Marian replied in anger, getting rid of Ros' hands on her cheeks.

"Get ready TO DANCE, Marian. We still need a leading dancer. And stop worrying about Theon: I have an idea." Ros replied matter-of-factly, as if all was under control.

Having said that, Ros threw a sexy dancing dress at Marian, smiled wickedly and left. Marian was left alone to change her clothes and pondered on whether Jon would be there for the show… or after it.

To eat her whole.

She sighed one lonely sigh.

That same morning she'd only told him that she was helping Ros, but she never actually mentioned the show, the day or the hour of the performance – and she didn't regret it. Therefore, how could he possibly be there that night?

Did she really need to worry about it?

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 4: Beware the wolf**

A few minutes later, the candles were illuminating the big room and the red velvet curtains were still drawn shut. Then Ros opened them and she and her fellow whores gladly rushed to enter the stage from the back. The men started yelling in a joyful anticipation.

Marian was the last one to appear, wearing a light frown of distrust and still hesitating at the back of the group. But at last she started pacing slowly to the front of the stage while the rest of the girls made way for her, showing she was the star of the performance. The men hollered joyfully until the room felt like an opera house at the bottom of a dark cliff. And Theon was among them, somewhere in the darkness, where she couldn't see him. She didn't like it one bit, but _hell,_ she'd have to try her best at least, or else… She just hoped that that sudden change of plans as regards the leading dancer would work out, that is, that Theon would be appeased.

The area where the men sat or stood staring at the girls was almost completely dark, so Marian couldn't quite figure out their faces. She couldn't recognise anyone in particular. But she knew there were a lot of them. Their voices were deep and hungry. Somehow Ros had managed that that performance should be a major event in Winterfell.

A part of her still wondered whether Jon would come over, sinfully hoping so with all her heart. But she knew he wouldn't. Unless Theon brought him over.

No.

Jon disliked whores and the brothel. And Theon. It was highly unlikely that he'd consent to come. That was his _bloody_ honour talking, as usual.

But right there and then she had no time to lose. Marian began to snap her fingers a few times and the dull, soft music died, so that a new, fresh, hectic music started playing to the rhythm of her constant snapping. The pianist followed her rhythm like it had followed Saroah's during the rehearsals. The other girls backed Marian, also snapping her fingers. As soon as the sinful, lusty melody filled the air, Ros and her friends started dancing following Marian's instructions, according to the fashion in Qarth. To be honest, that style was far too foxy as regards Winterfell's standards. That was why it became instantly popular amongst the present men in the audience.

The Qarth-inspired dresses were also helping to get the mood: that attire left very little to the imagination, with all that exposed flesh and those thin, multi-coloured straps intertwined. Marian's dress was in blue, red and yellow – and the long straps of her skirt floated gracefully in the air as she spun, jumped and carried out complex dancing moves and techniques which had never been performed in Winterfell.

A generous neckline allowed a wide view of her fleshy landscape of a young, blissfully slim body. Barefoot, like her stage colleagues, Marian danced all the way through the song, trying to evade her mind from the busy and frightening day she had had. The music went on and on, until it escalated and climaxed together with a daring dancing technique on Marian's behalf. The performance was flawless and impressive, and it deserved the undivided adoration from the male audience.

As soon as the music died, so did the dancing. And with a brief flourish, Marian exited the stage the first while the rest of the girls jumped from the stage to the laps of those men who'd claimed them. Soon an army of blissful moanings would fill those empty rooms upstairs and she'd be gone…

But then Marian made a mistake.

She dared to look back at the audience while she was already leaving the stage. More candles had been lit. And there he was, Jon, gaping at her, at what she had just done. Stating the fact that he couldn't believe his eyes was not enough to describe the wild look on his face. It was something more primitive, rawer, and starker. She sensed something threatening in his eyes, like in that dreadful encounter in the corridor with Theon the first day they had met, as if his aggressiveness could hardly be contained. But then again, she could see hints of lust and wonder. It took her breath away. And then she recalled Ros' words earlier that evening:

_Beware the wolf, little red riding-hood Marian. He may come to you and eat you whole tonight…_

That was why Marian blushed and made a run for it. She fled to the first floor and locked herself in the last of the empty rooms upstairs by putting a chair right behind the door. There was no lock _per se_, so little else could she do. Or that was what she thought as she suddenly froze in the middle of that godforsaken bedroom in that corner of the world, with those treacherous words banging inside her head.

That wasn't part of her plan. She wanted to come back to _her_ bedroom, the one above Maester Luwin's study room, and sleep.

_Beware the wolf…_

She was still breathing hard due to the harsh running up the stairs when she heard the first couples entering the other bedrooms of the brothel, laughing and joyfully singing the tune of that bloody song to which she had danced into oblivion for a few precious minutes.

How did Jon know she was there? Why had he come? Acting as the leading dancer had only been a last-minute thing! No one could've told him that Marian would be dancing that night, except for…Ros.

Ros had done it.

Marian let out a frustrated and angry sigh because she realised that it had been Ros' evil master plan all along. She was capable of it. Her wicked smiles and tantalising comments… Marian was sure that Ros had thought of it from the very start: why on Earth would she have told her that stuff about _the wolf_ if not?

She sat on the bed and covered her face with both her palms and whispered to herself:

"I hate you, Ros. I should've seen this one coming, but I was too distracted thinking about _him… _I hate you _so much_, Ros…"

In the meantime, the laughing in the neighbouring rooms gently died and it blurred into the soft sound of moaning. But in Marian's mind, she could only hear those fated, iron-heavy words:

_Beware the wolf…_

Suddenly her body reacted in tune with the rest of the environment, and fear was no more. She recalled those deep, anger-driven, yet bewitching male eyes and then she could no longer think rationally as she used to. Expecting him to walk along that corridor, hearing his nearing footsteps and knocking at her door suddenly was all she could conjure up in her mind's eye. And then he'd have her. Completely.

She sighed hopelessly and swallowed once.

With the tension from that also fateful morning still unbroken, her guts were telling her to let him in, to embrace the passion, to go with the flow wherever it would take her. She shivered at the thought in anticipation of something she had never experienced before, something she could only dream of. But it would soon be over… It _could_ be.

Her lips trembled as she stared at the door.

_Beware the wolf…_

And the waiting became a concrete block over her shoulders, loaded with the thrill and the dread of experiencing something new, until a mad yelling could be heard down the stairs. A fight broke out. Some blows were delivered without any further word or sound. A dead thud noise could be heard whenever a yelling, aggressive man would try to prove himself stronger over the strange, silent blow dealer.

After a few other attempts, no more yelling could be heard at all, only some impatient footsteps which ran up the stairs and then hesitated in front of several doors until, after some conscious thought, they headed further and further down the corridor.

To her.

_He may come to you and eat you whole tonight…_

A hand grabbed the doorknob impatiently. Marian gasped and her eyes glowed in anticipation as she rose from the bed. Was it him? With her eyes glued to that poor doorknob which was trying to be opened by force, to no avail because of the chair right behind the door, she wondered whether the stranger was Jon – and she found herself screaming in her mind that she wanted it so be so.

Desperately.

All of a sudden, the stranger broke the doorknob and broke into the bedroom to find Marian standing near the opposite wall, close to a window which gave way to the huge room previously used as a cabaret.

Yes, the silent blow dealer was Jon – a chest-heaving, anger-driven, intensely-staring Jon, who stormed his way across the bedroom and nailed both his hands on the wall to either side of Marian's flabbergasted body. The distance between them had been drastically reduced to almost nil. His dishevelled hair gave him an air of wilderness which couldn't be quite described. Their faces almost touched by their noses and she felt her flower blossom in anticipation, wet and ready like she had ever been for no other man in her entire life.

_Beware the wolf…_

_Eat you whole tonight…_

Neither of them said a word for what seemed to be an eternity, until Marian licked her lips once, very lightly, while he stared at her and whispered to him with hesitation:

"_Jon_…"

He could blissfully die hearing that word from her tempting lips. But before she could even relish in the idea that he might just skip the use of words and kiss her already, Jon broke out with anger:

"How am I supposed to protect you?!"

The air grew chillier and somehow it seemed to Marian as if Jon was extremely pissed off at her, as if she had fuck it all up and he had to chide her for being incredibly stupid.

"Marian,…" He hesitated for a second, breathing hard as if anger was still building up within his chest and he was not yet ready to speak until he was all geared up. "This has been the _brainless_ thing that you've ever done!"

He was definitely pissed off at her – no doubt about it. Thus, all the ecstatic atmosphere which Marian had progressively developed in her mind ever since Ros had uttered those oestrogen-driven words was blown to smithereens. He was mad, in a _bad_ sense of the word, like he was facing Theon instead of her.

"Don't you realise that you could've been…!" He didn't dare to finish the sentence. The vehemence in his voice pushed her to feel threatened by him for the first time in her life. "I think I'll _never_ understand why you're here in the first place! It's not safe in here! You didn't even tell me about it! I honestly thought that helping Ros involved a far less dangerous, exposing thing!"

His indignant male voice left Marian devoid of life. She had been expecting a completely different outcome of their meeting, and yet there she was, being chidden like a foolish young lady and tolerating it. He went on and on, complaining and yelling. After a few seconds though, she was standing under that pouring rain of angry complaints not even caring to listen and processing those words anymore. Eventually she could only hear a mumbling sound which resembled Jon's enraged voice, but she couldn't make the words out. She didn't fully understand why he was so angry at her and why she felt so torn inside.

It hurt so badly that she couldn't even think. His irate, fiery remarks were like a mind-bender in a literal sense of the expression.

Suddenly, Ros came into the bedroom with a motherly, also anger-driven expression on her face.

"I can't believe what I'm hearing!" She complained to Jon as if her own pride was at stake. He turned around to look at Ros in astonishment. "I've sent you a note to summon you here tonight, you've seen her dance like no one could ever do it, and now you're here, in a bedroom, alone with her, and you just _yell_ at her instead of _making love_ to her?! Are you _stupid_ or what, Jon Snow?!"

Those verbal blows aimed at Jon seemed to bring Marian back to reality. She was frowning, her beautiful smile had died. Her face darkened and she lowered her face until her eyes were shadowed.

"Ros, don't you dare…" Jon's voice was still dark and angry. "She could've been in great danger! Don't you dare…"

"Don't you dare, what, _bastard_?!" She yelled back in anger. "She's probably the _only_ woman that will ever honestly care for you! And you treat her like _this_?! After all I have done to _gear her all up _for you?!"

"Gear her all up…?" Jon repeated in astonishment. "_What the_…?"

"Let me tell you something, Jon Snow: you might just have hit the jackpot when you met her, but now I don't think you deserve her _at all_! There. I said it."

Jon finally seemed to realise, a slow thinker as he was, what Ros had actually meant and blushed all of a sudden.

"I've never deserved her. That I know." He whispered back with sadness, all anger gone for good then.

Ros didn't see that one coming. He was calmer, but not totally subdued. All of them fell silent until Theon all of a sudden broke into the bedroom, wild at heart, stoned and raging, and he professed his current goal:

"I want Marian! _NOW_!" He yelled using a dark, lusty voice when he saw her.

The aim of the original plan was working, that is, that Theon would no longer feel clingy to Ros. Then again, the plan had probably backfired: he was fancying Marian instead. He pushed Ros aside as if he was disgusted by the sight of her and went straight to Marian (as straight as he could manage, since he was drunk), but Jon was still standing right in front of her like a wall and would not let him pass.

"Where do you think you're going, Theon?!" Jon yelled back at him, hoisting his anger again as he pushed Theon's chest and made him stop in his tracks.

"Hey, I've heard it all, _bastard._ If you don't want to _fuck_ her, then _don't_." He said joyfully. "I'm not complaining, mate! The more for me!" He started laughing while Jon began to clench his fists and teeth like never before.

But right when Theon tried to make his way past Jon and Jon was about to stop him again, he was pushed aside by Marian, who ruthlessly punched Theon in the face. He fell on the floor, semi-unconscious, and his nose was profusely bleeding.

Everybody froze, but then she broke the ice thus:

"I wanted to kick his teeth in since the second I met him." She whispered darkly, but with cheek.

Both Ros and Jon were too dumbstruck to say anything. How could she have left him almost knocked-out with one single blow? Jon guessed she was stronger than she looked.

Next, while Theon was still lying on the floor semi-unconscious, she beat him again a couple of times, then tied his wrists and ankles very tightly with a thick rope, opened the window, skilfully took out a small knife, cut Theon's trousers' button, jerked then down, also cut his underpants, also jerked them down; and, from the open window, she hung him upside down like a ham facing the rest of the men who had decided to hang out down there while waiting for the next free slut who might take them. They soon realised that Theon had been beaten very badly and started laughing wholeheartedly at him, mocking him.

He soon woke up and realised the ridiculous position he was in – and protested, to no avail, of course. That was when Marian took that chance to speak up to the amused crowd and said:

"This is what will happen to the next fellow who tries anything on me!" She yelled with pride while Theon was still complaining and begging her to set him free.

Meanwhile, inside the bedroom, Ros and Jon were gaping at her. Marian would gape at herself if she could: she had beaten one of her worst fears.

"You." Marian said seriously, looking straight at Ros, pointing at her with her knife. "That's what you have to do with Theon to keep him at bay. And stop caring about the money so much. If that's what you're _really_ worried about." She said darkly at the end.

Then, she took a couple of steps towards the door and put her knife back under her skirt. When she had already reached the door, she turned for a second to face Jon and then she told him with a passive-aggressive voice:

"Am I in danger?" She made a brief, but crucial pause. "_I am danger._"

Having said that, she left the place. Ros smiled a stupid smile: she knew that side of Marian. On the other hand, Jon didn't.

The men hollered and hailed Marian as if she was the Queen of Westeros while she made her way to the exit.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Marian stormed to her room without any trouble. In her current state, she was the most fearful young lady that anyone might come across in the middle of the night.

The chilly night's air cooled her nerves down and she regained rational thought. She didn't feel ashamed of what she had just done, she simply wished she could avoid any type of confrontation because she plainly disliked it. Whenever she needed to be aggressive and violent, she truly felt empowered by the thrill of action and mischief, but later she'd usually feel blue and homesick. She didn't need to be that aggressive back home, in Qarth. That dark side of hers had revealed itself while travelling in Westeros.

That brutish land had changed her – and that made her want to come back home even more.

She just hoped that those feelings would be washed up by morning.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Meanwhile, in that same old bedroom in the brothel, Jon and Ros were growing roots from their feet onto the floor – such was their level of amazement for what Marian had just done.

"Wow…" Ros whispered amazed. "Did you see that? _Who_ would've thought that she was able to do such a thing?" She had loved that unusual spark of roughness in her dear, normally coy and logic-centred friend. She remembered that one time when she had saved her from a rapist – and she had been anxiously waiting like _forever_ for Marian's dark side to appear again. The thrill that Ros felt for it was beyond anything she'd ever felt before.

At that, Jon did not answer. He just let out a brief, almost silent sigh.

"What are you thinking, Jon?" Ros asked him rather casually, not meaning any harm, while closing the window just because she didn't want to hear Theon yelling and swearing so profusely.

She was wondering whether to tell him about the rapist and Marian's bold reaction. Then, Jon might realise that Marian was rougher than he had envisioned her. But he made the conversation flow in a different direction:

"I think that you may have lost a friend." He whispered with sadness, not staring at her at all – just at the empty doorframe.

"And _I _think that she's really mad at you." She spat back at him with a light smirk.

"Then we're even, I guess."

"Whatever." Ros answered because she didn't know what else to say. She always did the same.

"You said… 'Gear her up' for me?" He asked blushing a bit, afraid to ask such a thing. "Was that what you were really up to?"

"Of course, you _idiot_!" Ros told him enraged all of a sudden. "The second she told me her idea about dancing and stuff, I thought about it. You don't do anything or give her any sign, and she's too shy to even think about it. Something had to be done! So I told Saroah, our leading dancer, to fake a leg injury so that Marian would feel forced to step in the last minute. I knew she'd do it. It worked!"

"So you set her up, is that it?"

"I set _both of you_ up. You're welcome, Jon." She said faking a warm smile.

"You shouldn't have done this, you know." He said seriously.

"Why? Because you _fuck_ it all up and now she's mad at you?" She asked still angered at him.

"No. Because we don't need help at all, Ros. There's no 'we'. There won't ever be…" He said serious as hell, with burning irises directly on hers. His voice became one of those greatly feared grunts. "I'm warning you: this is not a game and if I see that you're trying it again, you'll be in trouble."

"Are you threatening me, Jon Snow?" Ros tried to put a brave face, but an angry Jon Snow was something Ros was not ready for.

"I will if you keep on bothering her." He insisted taking a couple of intimidating steps towards her.

"What about you?" She whispered daringly, but it was obvious that her purpose was weakening.

"You can't bother me as long as you don't mess up with her, which you won't ever dare to do again, understood?" He added also whispering, but his voice was still an painful grunt in Ros' ears.

"Fair enough. I… I just wanted to help. That's all." She whispered trying to feel whole and rouge, like she usually was.

"Whatever." He answered dryly.

Having said that, Jon left the place in a rush and Ros went to 'save' Theon.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Dawn came with a dense fog which was clinging far too much to the earth. It seemed as if it would never go away. Naturally, Marian and Jon's usual trip to the woods was cancelled – it was even though they hadn't had the chance to meet and talk about it. They both assumed that no trip could take place due to the weather conditions and avoided each other.

Marian refused to see him. She made herself scarce at all times and told Maester Luwin to cover her up should anyone ask about her during the meals or during the day. As an excuse, she said she wanted to start investigating a new kind of flower that she had found the previous day, the one with the white petals. That was why she spent literally all day in Maester Luwin's study room preparing different sorts of extracts and ointments from that flower, and writing all the developments in a journal.

During the afternoon, her investigation-related frenzy cooled down and Maester Luwin passed by to check on her progress, only to find her sad and exhausted, leaning her left cheek on her left fist as she scribbled some notes on a piece of paper.

"Marian, sweetheart." He said warmly. "You should rest. It's quite late already."

"I haven't finished." She replied bored and sad. "I still got an hour and a half left before dinner. But I'm not coming. Just so you know."

"You can't take it anymore. You should take a walk or something. You've been locked up in here all day!" He tried to convince her.

"I don't feel like it." She replied bored like hell.

"You don't want to go out because some young man may have told you something… inconvenient, am I right?" He guessed correctly, and he knew it the second he had mentioned a human being from the opposite sex by the tell-tale frown on her wonderful face. "Is that why you locked yourself in?"

She sighed and gave in.

"_Inconvenient_ is a cute euphemism for it." She admitted.

"What's wrong, Marian? Jon's been quite upset, too." He said trying not to sound gossipy about it.

"Tell him to get stuffed." She dryly replied.

"Marian, please." He frowned at her harsh comment, still worrying about her. "He looks awfully regretful, staring at your empty seat every now and then during the meals. It's painful even to me. Not to mention Robb's and Theon's face."

"What?! Robb and Theon?" She asked surprised.

"Robb's been feeling blue, as if missing you very much, sighing every now and then, and also staring at your seat. Theon's more like… ashamed or something. He looks like a scared cat. But Jon looks the worst by far."

"Anyway, I don't care."

Oh, but she _did_ care.

"You _do_, Marian. Anyway, what's wrong? What happened?" He asked rather fatherly.

"Jon chid me." She replied hesitating, but releasing a good deal of hatred and frustration. "I didn't… I just wanted to… Anyway, I know I did something stupid, but I did it for a good cause. I…" She tried to justify herself.

"Something stupid?" He cut her speech for a second.

"Theon was getting too clingy to Ros and she feared that…" She tried to explain while cooling down. "Anyway, I came up with an idea which might have distracted Theon from his obsession with her temporarily, but there was an accident and…"

"Stop beating about the bush, Marian. I'm not going to chide you, darling." He said as if he had known her all her life. "If you've survived on your own all across Westeros, I'm not going to judge how you act. You don't need to sweeten what happened for me."

Marian silently thank him for that and went on.

"I taught the sluts from the brothel how to dance like we do in Qarth. Our dancing style is much more daring and seductive than the dancing here, but the meaning is not slutty, by far. That's the norm there. But anyway, I thought that if another girl who wasn't Ros would play the leading role, then Theon might get attracted to her and leave Ros alone for a while, at least. But then, the leading dancer got injured the afternoon before the performance and Ros asked me to play the leading role because no one was prepared to do it, so…"

"So you accepted even though you disliked the idea." He concluded with a warm smile on his face.

"Exactly." She admitted, but she was still angry. "I hate Theon and he had recently threatened me that very same day, but Ros said she'd think of something else and told me not to worry. And I believed her, of course."

"So, did Ros betray you in some way?"

"Indeed." She sighed as if she had been defeated. "She thought it was _necessary_ to bring Jon and me together… Apparently she loves doing mischief, and she knew that I would accept dancing as a last-minute thing, and so she sent a note to Jon to come. Otherwise he would've never ever been there to see what happened on stage. And what was to come later, which was quite predictable…" She blushed a bit.

"Did she succeed?"

"Not really." She whispered as if she was ashamed.

"I expected as much."

"Jon decided to come, like she had initially planned." She continued rather sheepishly. "And I danced the leading role. But the outcome wasn't what I… _she_ expected. He ranted at me… as if I was a stupid, little child."

Maester Luwin smiled at her badly disguised _lapsus linguae_, while Marian was thinking that Josua or Robb would've probably never reacted like that.

"Marian, you know Jon is a good man." Maester Luwin went on warmly. "The town's folk may have never given him the benefit of doubt, but I _do_ know he's noble and honest despite his social position. Are you mad at _him_ or at _yourself_ for making him angry or disappointing him?"

She didn't want to answer that question.

"He was angry… But he didn't know the truth! Neither did I!" She immediately complained. She didn't want to answer that dreadful question because she didn't know which option was worse. Both of them hurt a great deal.

"Look, I think I know what's wrong here." He said quite hopefully then. "None of you did anything wrong, and yet you feel bad about it. You should both talk about it, calmly. But I think I should warn you about something. Jon is due to leave for the Wall probably in a few days, therefore he can't afford to have a relationship. Do you understand?"

"And I'm due to come back to Qarth… I knew it from the start." She sadly acknowledged.

"He may look like he'd love to have one, but he knows he can't offer anything worth having to a woman. The weight of shame is too heavy a burden." He concluded darkly.

"I understand." She whispered while holding back a sudden urge to slap him for having said something like that about Jon. He had committed no sin.

He had done nothing wrong. Ever. And then she thought:

'Does _being born_ count?'

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A few minutes later, Maester Luwin had already left and dinnertime was almost due, and then Jon came loudly knocking at the door of the study room.

"Marian!" He shouted. "Open, please!"

The first thought that was shot in Marian's mind was that Maester Luwin had something to do with it or that Jon might still be pissed off at her and wanted to rant a bit further. Even though she was not really in the mood for it, she decided to open the lock and let him in – and she'd apologise to him as he came in.

"Jon, first of all, I…" She began apologetically.

But then she froze. She was not ready to process the sight before her eyes. Jon was carrying the baker's daughter in his arms: little Diane, a poor eight-year-old whose right hand had been cut off and whose wrist was bleeding profusely. She had lost all consciousness and Jon's face was a map of worry and adrenaline.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary**: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC

**Disclaimer**: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Previously…**

A few minutes later, Maester Luwin had already left and dinnertime was almost due, and then Jon came loudly knocking at the door of the study room.

"Marian!" He shouted. "Open, please!"

The first thought that was shot in Marian's mind was that Maester Luwin had something to do with it or that Jon might still be pissed off at her and wanted to rant a bit further. Even though she was not really in the mood for it, she decided to open the lock and let him in – and she'd apologise to him as he came in.

"Jon, first of all, I…" She began apologetically.

But then she froze. She was not ready to process the sight before her eyes. Jon was carrying the baker's daughter in his arms: little Diane, a poor eight-year-old whose right hand had been cut off and whose wrist was bleeding profusely. She had lost all consciousness and Jon's face was a map of worry and adrenaline.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 5: Diane**

"Good Gods!" She exclaimed as she moved aside to let them in. "What happened?!"

"An accident in the bakery with a large knife." Jon said breathing hard.

"Onto the table." Marian commanded as she took all the objects from the table in a rush. "Thank you." She said as soon as Jon had left Diane on the table.

Jon stared every now and then at both of them as the doctor's apprentice industriously worked on the poor girl's injury. She proceeded with swiftness and complete silence, much to Jon's relief. He wasn't in the mood for conversation either. They would have to talk sooner or later about it – so let it be _later_.

A few minutes later, Diane's parents knocked on the door and Marian told Jon to deal with them _outside_ for as long as he could.

"Best if they don't see any of this." She added darkly. "Keep them out for as long as possible, please, Jon."

Jon did as told and, after more or less half an hour, Marian had neatly finished the girl's amputation. She was already cleaning a few bloodstains left on both their skins and clothes when the parents couldn't take it anymore and entered the room. The mother wailed and wailed while the father complained to Marian. Jon raised an eyebrow at his nerve and waited for her to deliver a rational response which might cool him down. Otherwise, he'd have to intervene.

"Sir, you must understand that complaining to me is useless: I did my best to save her. Besides, _I _didn't cut her hand off in the first place." She argued back. "There was no other option."

The man fell silent.

The hectic of the last few minutes had made the adrenaline rush in Marian's veins, so much so that she didn't realise the look of both worry and frustrating hesitation on Jon's face, who was staring at her from a distance, from a corner of the study room, as if he was a mere shadow cast by the candlelight.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A few minutes later, the girl regained consciousness and soon afterwards her parents took her back home, leaving Jon and Marian alone in Maester Luwin's study room. Jon swallowed hard because he dreaded the awkward silence that would follow, as if it was made of cold and dry steel. Eventually, Marian slowly closed the door as soon as they had left and sighed exhausted. They were both extremely tired.

"We're late for dinner. We should get going." Jon said neutrally, not really daring to look straight at her. He really thought he could get out of that one like that.

"Before we do," She dared to reply. "do you mind if I say something?"

Silence fell and Jon began to perspire while his heart started racing wildly. That was it. Marian understood his silence like a nod.

"Do you know what Ros had actually in mind for us yesterday?" She asked calmly, almost whispering. She really wanted to know if he knew the truth, even though she wasn't comfortable talking about those issues. He wasn't looking forward to it and it was more than obvious to her, too.

"She told me right after you left." He answered almost whispering too, sadly. "Look, I'm sorry I got angry like I did. I should've…_I should've_…" He hesitated, thinking about what he could've actually done to her, blushing wildly.

"And I'm sorry because I should've seen it coming." She said in a hurry to get those words out of her mouth. She felt an instant relief as soon as she had let them out. "I should've know better. Ros is a _manipulative, ruthless, cheeky dictator_!"

Her lovely, smart mouth. Jon couldn't help staring at her lips for some time. Somehow, the dreaded conversation had been brief but not as awful as they had envisioned. Blaming a third party might've helped to ease the tension out, but there were other silent or invisible issues embedded in their shared awkwardness…

But both of them had something stuck in their minds, a question far more shameful than what Ros had planned to do in secrecy: Marian wanted to ask him why he had got so fucking angry, the deep-down, _real_ reason as to why (she was convinced that there had to be something else apart from exposing herself, dancing, like she had done); and Jon wanted to know what 'gear her up' for him, as Ros had put it, actually meant for Marian… and whether he had screwed it up for good.

But none dared to utter the fated question which was roaring in their minds, and they agreed to go and have dinner as soon as possible.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

When Jon and Marian entered the dining room, late as they were, they rushed to their table trying not to get anyone's attention. However, it was futile: everyone was seated in their places already, and those who had noticed their absence were precisely those to whom both Jon and Marian didn't want to give explanations, namely, Theon and Arya. Robb saw them entering together and frowned lightly, but didn't say a word. He knew Jon was due to take her to the woods and make sure she was safe and sound… but not all the _bloody_ time.

"So, killing some spare time before dinner _with Jon_, Marian?" Arya whispered meanly to her as Marian sat down on the chair right beside her.

"Not again, little miss!" Marian chid her, also whispering. "You know it doesn't work like that, so stop hassling me!"

"Has he kissed you at least yet?" Arya asked quite matter-of-factly, ignoring Marian's angry plea.

At that, Marian blushed because she remembered that moment in which she had silently begged him to kiss her already, almost 24 hours ago, in that bedroom in the brothel. And his testosterone-driven, predator gaze on her. She shivered mildly, unsuccessfully trying to hide it.

"No, he hasn't…" She whispered back, rather slowly and with unreleased fire.

"He's such a moron sometimes…" Arya whispered looking meanly at Jon from afar, not noticing Marian's containment of flooding feelings.

In the meantime, at the other side of that large, rectangular table Jon was having a hard time dealing with Theon while Robb was listening to absolutely everything wearing a light frown and a dry smile on his lips which Jon didn't like one bit.

"You _bastard_ son of a bitch!" Theon sang joyfully. "_You_ and your stupid honour _suck_! How come do you arrive so _late_ to dinner, _huh_? Were you hunting some _foreign female bird_ under a tree?"

As Theon hinted such a blasphemous activity, Robb felt his muscles getting tense, but Jon was much tenser than his brother. His eyes seemed to be aflame as they declared the primal need to tear Theon's limbs one by one.

"Careful, Theon." Jon's rough, dark voice insisted. It was that dreadful, husky voice that Marian feared so much. Fortunately, the girls couldn't hear them talking about her at the time. "Marian was generous with your punishment last night, but I swear _I won't be_."

At that, Robb couldn't help but spitting his food out of his mouth.

"Are you threatening me, _bastard_?" Theon said, mocking him as usual. He never took him seriously and took every single chance to laugh at him.

While Theon was speaking to Jon, Robb gaped at both men as they went on speaking.

"_Marian_… _generous_ with your… _punishment_?! What are you talking about?!" Robb asked bewildered, but trying not to be heard by the ladies at the other side of the dining table.

"_Tja_… She's hard as iron, but I'll _bend_ her!" Theon answered with too much pride. "This is far from over…"

"Theon wanted to impose himself on her." Jon summarized what had happened mocking Theon as much as he could, relishing in the explanation. "Marian kicked his teeth in. He was left semi-unconscious. Then she hung him upside down and cut his trousers open, so that a large multitude of people could appreciate how _small_ Theon's manhood is."

"_What_?!" Robb was at a loss for words. He didn't know she could be so badass and hard-core.

"She got lucky. Besides, I was _tipsy_." Theon tried to find an excuse.

"You were _stoned_, Theon." Jon answered darkly. "Not tipsy. Besides, she knows how to handle pieces of _shit_ like _you_. And if you insist on harassing her, I swear I'll do worse than that to you. So step aside and leave her alone."

"You're no match for me, _bastard_." Theon replied daringly.

"Theon," Robb intervened with badly repressed anger, his voice icier than the thundering blizzards north of the Wall. "you shall _not_ bother Marian again, _am I clear_? The second I know you're after _something_ from her, I'll get you killed. Understood?"

At that, both Jon and Theon gulped and the argument died right after that. Robb could be threatening when he wanted to, which left Jon wondering with worry and jealousy whether he was actually interested in Marian, a foreigner who didn't bear any title of nobility or who seemed not to need one. On top of that, she had never mentioned her will to marry or stay in Westeros forever, quite the contrary, in fact: she needed to return as soon as the progress in her investigation would allow her. But could Robb actually consider her a good match? If so, _could_ he marry her bearing in mind the fact that she was not of noble blood?

And most importantly, would she take such an offer?

An offer _he_ couldn't make her himself, of course.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Dawn came on the next morning with a gentle shower, but Marian was getting ready for her usual trip to the woods, nonetheless. Her tantrum and investigation-related frenzy of the previous day had revealed a promising future ahead of her. Discovering that white flower and its chemical benefits could mean a turning point in her investigations. No other plant had proved to be fit enough to fight the symptoms. She wanted to collect more of them as soon as possible. She knew that that species of flower was the key to change everything.

All of a sudden, someone came knocking at the door of the study room, but that knocking was far too gentle and meek to be Jon.

Once Marian opened the door, she found out little Diane standing there and smiling at her. She wanted to thank her for 'saving her life'. Well, that was how she put it. Marian smiled warmly back at her.

"Diane," Marian said quite seriously. "good morning, sweet pea. I may have a surprise for you. Come back in three days and I'll show you something very special, for a _very special_ girl like you."

Marian pointed at the little girl's small nose and gently tapped the tip once. She smiled warmly at the girl standing before her. The little girl's eyes, which couldn't help but staring at Marian's lovely silver necklace with a wonderful sea shell in it, became two glowing shooting stars full of hope and wonder as she fled back into the streets, thrilled by a the existence of mystery present for her.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Three days went by and Marian summoned Diane back to Maester Luwin's study room. She had said she would have a surprise for her, but in fact it would be a surprise for everyone. Not only was Diane present, but also her parents, some of her friends, Maester Luwin, even Lord Stark, Robb and Jon came. Actually, Marian never meant to tell Lord Stark and Robb about it, but Maester Luwin insisted with such vehemence that they should also be present that she couldn't say no. Maester Luwin could be extremely persuasive when he was thrilled about something – and he was, undoubtedly thrilled by what Marian had prepared for little Diane that day.

Thus, in front of that rather large committee, Marian delivered a wooden box with two holes on one side. She made Diane sit on her chair, facing those two mysterious, dark holes. The little girl wondered what those holes were meant for.

"Put your hands through the holes… Well," Marian hesitated at her poor choice of words. "you know what I mean. Sorry, Diane. Put your arms in it so that your wrists are completely inside the box."

Diane did as told, her heart rattling madly in her chest.

"Now I'll open the box, but before I do that, Diane," She went on rather motherly. "I need you to understand that this exercise is a one-time thing. A magical, _one-time_ experience." She stressed out. "This box can do _the impossible_ for you. So I really need you to relax. Are you nervous?"

"A little bit." She squeaked like a little mouse.

"Chill out, Diane. You'll love it, I sure of that." She told her smiling. "When I open the box, I will remove the left part of the lid, but also the left side and the left half of the front side. See? There's a mark here, right in the middle, between your wrists."

Diane nodded.

"The right side will still be closed and it _must_ remain that way. Once the box is half open, I need you to focus on your left hand, Diane. Will you do that for me?"

The girl nodded again.

"Good. Then, you'll need to lean a bit on your left to look at the right side of the box from the inside, right? You'll see what I mean in a minute."

"OK."

"Remember, Diane." Marian insisted a bit further. "I know I'm a bit repetitive here, but I need you to be calm all the way. I need you to be as quiet and still as possible. You'll see the impossible, but I don't want you to freak out, all right?"

Diane nodded one last time and Marian decided to open the box already.

"Here we go then!" Marian said with enthusiasm.

She opened the box in the way she had previously explained and they all committed to being silent for a long while. Diane saw her left hand lying flat on the surface of the wood and she leaned on her left to look at the right side of the box from the inside, as she had been previously told. She gasped loudly when she saw the power of the wooden box: her right hand had been miraculously restored – more or less. There was a glass pane dividing the box in two halves, and Diane could see her right hand restored in the surface of the glass. She looked back at Marian, who was assessing Diane's reaction, and then back at both her hands, quietly lying on the wood.

"Good, good, Diane." Marian told her. "How are you feeling?"

"My right hand! The box has given me my hand back!" She told Marian trying to contain her excitement.

Her parents were flabbergasted and stared at the box with silent incredulity. The rest of the crew displayed the same reaction, but it was a bit milder, since the child didn't mean as much to them at a personal level. Jon's eyes glowed and glued themselves to the strange magic emanating of the box, and then he stared back at Marian with wonder.

"You can't take your hands from the box, remember: keep as still as possible." Marian instructed.

"OK."

"Do you like this surprise?"

"Yes!" Diane exclaimed without thinking twice about it.

"Now, Diane, look at me for a minute, sweetie. That's right. Look, now I'm gonna give you some instructions, right?" When Diane nodded with vehemence, Marian went on with a tell-tale smile. "Now move a little bit your thumbs."

"Up and down? With _both_ my hands?"

"Yes, with _both_ your hands."

She slowly did as told and smiled broadly at both her moving thumbs.

"Can you feel both of your thumbs moving?"

"Yes!" Diane replied excited.

"Now, tap on the wood with your forefinger fingers."

Diane did as told and the tapping sound reassured her soul.

"Can you feel your right forefinger moving?"

"Yes!"

"Now, let's try something different. Tap on the wood with all your fingers, like this."

Then, Marian put her hands on the table and rattled her fingers in a bold, quick sequence – one finger after the other, as if she was getting impatient. Diane repeated the sequence and enjoyed every bit of it. She was repeating the exercise over and over and over, with the wonderful thrill of magic flowing in her veins.

"Diane, can you feel the wood beneath your right hand?"

"Yes!"

"OK, Diane. The exercise is over now. You may stop. Don't move your hands, please. Now," Marian closed the wooden box, got closer to her and hugged her from behind with all the warmth and kindness she could muster. Her sea shell necklace fell on one side of her neck and touched Diane's cheek. "you remember I've told you that this was a magical, one-time thing, right?" She whispered softly.

"Yes…" Diane said not sure whether she should feel sad about it.

"This box isn't normal, it's different. _I made it_." Marian made a pause. "You've seen _both_ your hands moving now. And you've felt them moving. _Both._ Is that right?"

When Diane nodded, Marian kissed her hair softly.

"Good, Diane. Look," Marian went on feeling as if she was just about to break the poor girl's heart. "when you've seen your right hand, you've been looking at a mirror… What does this mean?"

"But I thought it was a glass, a window?"

"No. It's a mirror."

"Then…"

"The right hand that you've seen is the reflection of your left. It's an _illusion_. See?"

Having said that, Marian helped Diane to take her wrists slowly and gently from the holes of the box – and Diane gasped with sadness. She was on the brink of crying. Then, Marian kneeled down in front of Diane, who was still sitting on the chair, to look at her deep in the eye.

"Diane, the box has shown you what you can't have, and that can make you feel sad; but it has also shown you something very important." Marian stared into her eyes while holding both her shoulders and continued thus: "It has told you that you can still _feel_. As long as you _feel_ your hand, no one – I repeat – NO ONE can tell you that you no longer have it. Look," And then Marian opened a drawer and got out a small, carved, articulated, wooden hand with leather straps. "this is a present for you. I know it's not as good as the original, but it can still be very useful to you. I want you to have it, wear it and, most of all, _enjoy_ it."

Diane was already crying and rushed to hug Marian, who was still holding the small wooden hand. She sank her face into her neck and stared sobbing.

"OK…" Marian whispered to herself quite dumbfounded at the child's reaction. "I didn't see this one coming."

The poor girl was hugging Marian as if she was desperately holding for her dear life. At that, Lord Stark and the rest of the committee smiled warmly at both of them. She had caused a great impression on the population of Winterfell, but that day she became someone dear, priceless, the healing heart of a wailing community.

The very first who had had the pleasure of knowing that before anyone else could was none other than Jon. His experience of life had changed a great deal since he'd met her, and he was thinking precisely that while he was staring at her and little Diane clinging to her neck. That was why his prospects of going to the Wall and joining the Night's Watch were less and less appealing the more days went by.

Once Diane and her parents had thanked her a billion times and were gone back home, the nobles present and Maester Luwin silently decided to stay a bit longer to chat with her.

"I'm impressed, Miss Bluegin." Lord Stark told her, unable to hide his amazement. "I don't think we can afford to live without you, young lady, as Maester Luwin had pointed out to me earlier today before feeling the need to drag me here."

"I'm honoured by your remarks, Lord Stark," She insisted very politely. "but you _do_ know I'm due for Qarth as soon as I've progressed in my investigations, which by the way are quite advanced, m'lord."

"I know, but I'd love to give you a gift." He insisted. "I was hoping that, once you're back in Qarth, we shouldn't lose contact, you know… You could even come back someday." He added swiftly before going on talking about his mysterious present: "But give me a couple of days to handle some urgent matters and then I'll call you. I need to speak to you in private about an idea I've had. I think that you might be interested in this little gift for you."

"Lord Stark," She insisted as politely as she could, with a mild degree of tiredness. "I hope you remember I said that I'm _not_ expecting any sort of reward for what I do. There's absolutely _no_ need to repay me or…"

"I know, I know…" He insisted with joy and a warm smile on his face. "Let me give you…_a treat_, young lady."

Both Robb and Jon had heard that bit of the conversation between their father and Marian and wondered what he was talking about.

Marian raised an eyebrow at that comment, but she didn't say a thing. Lord Stark had been extremely generous, but it was probably in his nature to be so. However, Marian couldn't help but pondering on the potential reason for that almost unbearable high dose of mystery in the whole thing. Why was Lord Stark such a deliberately joyful, mysterious and tantalizing benefactor?

"I hope you're not leaving us soon, by the way?" Lord Stark went on with the curiosity of a child. "You said your investigations might be complete soon, is that right?"

"I'm almost done. I'm afraid I'll have to leave soon. I've got no time to lose, m'lord." She replied dutifully, not daring to check the look on Jon's face.

Naturally, Jon was aching inside like never before. Robb's warm smile also froze, as if he was already missing her, regretting her imminent departure.

"Very well, then." Lord Stark added. "I won't delay you more than it's necessary, since you're father's health is at stake."

At that, Jon gaped at Marian. Suddenly, his ache was gone and instead his heart stopped beating. Time froze for him. She had never told him about her father being ill – he only knew about that strange illness which she was willingly fighting against with unrivalled fierceness, but he never thought she had such a personal reason for it.

He chanced to look at Robb's and Maester Luwin's faces, who didn't look surprised at all. Therefore, _they_ knew, like Lord Stark.

'Am I the only one who _didn't_ know?' Jon thought with resentment, but he soon chid himself for feeling that way. 'She must have a good reason, she always does. _How can I be so stupid?!_ She might've told the basics to Lord Stark because she had to when she arrived. Robb is usually by his side at meetings, which makes sense. And Maester Luwin knows for obvious reasons… But she might've not told me because she might've feared she'd break down. So… it must be really, _really_ bad for her.'

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

That same day, a few minutes later… In Ros' little hut, two friends were being reunited.

"Again, I'm sorry, Marian." Ros insisted with genuine worry while she sat on the mattress of her bed in her two-room, rather small hut. "It wasn't my business and I acted like an overambitious bitch, I know. I'm sorry that I took both of you for granted."

"Ros, chill out." Marian tried to soothe her but she was speaking as joyfully as ever, sitting down beside her. "It's the way you are. You can't help being a bossy slut."

"_Geez_. Thanks for the compliment." Ros replied sarcastically, which made Marian smile.

"You know what I mean. Besides," Marian added. "I've got it all sorted out. More or less."

"What do you mean by 'more or less'?" Ros asked a bit angrily. "You either sort something out or _not_. Full stop. No shilly-shallying."

"Ros," Marian told her a bit exhausted. "can we _not_ talk about men for a day or something?"

"Sure! I'd love _not_ talking about those dick-centered human beings." Ros said with a deviant smirk of her lips.

"Ros, I need to ask you a favour if you don't mind." Marian went on rather sheepishly.

"For you, babe, _anything_."

Marian hesitated for a few seconds, biting her lower lip with coyness.

"What's the matter?" Ros asked feeling naughty.

"I want to know something." Marian whispered while blushing a bit.

"Ah, _knowledge_, as usual. You're so predictable, _gal_." Ros retorted a bit tired.

"No, well, I mean… I…" Marian hesitated.

Ros raised an eyebrow at her.

"What is it? Spit it out already…" Ros pushed her.

"I might need advice on how to… _you know_."

"Oh, I see…" Ros said opening her eyes wide with uncontainable excitement. "Good! You want to make a move, a very _naughty_ little move, towards Jon Snow, _innit_?"

"It's not like _that_…"

"Sure, whatever. How _daring_ of you! I really thought you'd never get it on, you know." Ros was obviously thrilled.

"Ros…"

"You're shy and well-positioned; he's hopeless and… er… well, he's…"

"He's what, Ros?" Marian said seriously, becoming mildly angry. "_Tag him_, like the rest of the people _tag_ _you…_ and the other girls."

"I'm sorry," Ros replied in a serious mood which didn't really fit her. "I didn't want to be mean to either him or you. But you can't hide the fact that being a bastard has marked him. And it will continue to be so unless, by an _extraordinary stroke of luck_, people change their minds and stop bullying him."

Silence fell between both of them while it started raining outside. It was a gentle shower, with a lovely dripping sound, smooth like a lullaby.

"Anyway," Ros went on quite motherly. "I can tell you what you wanna know."

Right when Marian was beginning to feel convinced and ready to voice her questions, there was a loud knocking on the door.

"Ros! Open up – _you know what I mean!_" Theon's voice roared from outside.

"Oh, great." Ros whispered with exhaustion and dread. "It's the dickhead. He doesn't like getting _that _kind of wet."

Right after that, Ros opened the door with a flourish. She had no hall or nothing of the sort in her little hut: the front door led directly to her bedroom. Marian tried to hold back her giggling due to Ros' last funny comment, and Theon saw it – but he hadn't heard Ros' previous bold words. He just saw that Marian was having fun at his cost – and that she was spending time with _his_ Ros. But right when he was crossing the threshold and coming towards Marian with a mildly intimidating pose, as if defeating his fear for that dangerous young lady, Jon saw him from a distance – but most importantly, he saw _her _in the dangerous vicinity of that dickhead Theon.

He lunged at him and shoved him aside, far from her.

"_Yo_! Jon… What the?!" Theon yelled at Jon. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Leave her alone." Jon grunted as he stepped between both of them.

"Jon," Ros said trying to set the peace. "Marian was about to leave anyways, right dove?"

"Sure." Marian replied. "I was just visiting."

"Not so fast, _luv_." Theon stopped her in her tracks when she tried to reach for the door and leave, hoping that Jon would do so too.

Out of the blue, a stark lightning and loud thunder ripped the skies above and a huge mass of water fell from it as if the Old Gods were pouring giant buckets of water directly over the insignificant mortals' land and their little, fragile heads.

"Wow… OK." Ros said, trying to think of a solution. "Since the weather is so nasty right now, why don't you all stay inside? I don't mind as long as you behave."

"All right, Ros." Marian replied taking for granted the men's answer and hoping they'd feel forced to behave properly now that this sort of deal was already made.

She went back to standing near Jon, while he and Theon kept on eyeing each other fiercely until Ros voiced another wild idea of hers.

"Now," Ros commanded with a harsh, serious voice, while closing the door behind her – but she couldn't. "Oops! What the.?!"

Ghost was begging to come in, putting one of his huge paws in before the door closed. He didn't like the rain. He howled meekly, as if begging to be let in.

"OK…" Ros said as she let Ghost in and he fled towards Jon and Marian, who were standing close to one another. "OK, guys. I have a good idea. Why don't you, Theon, go lie on my bed… In the meantime, Marian, Jon, please feel free to lock yourselves in the other room."

"WHAT?!" They yelled in unison.

"Otherwise, you'll see absolutely _everything_." Ros concluded with a naughty smile.

"As much as I _detest_ you, Jon, you actually need to _learn_ – so it's best if it's from the master at the game, that is, of course… _me._" Theon shot out with pride.

Jon grunted something intelligible.

"Ros," Marian said with worry. "are you sure you wanna do this? Are you nuts? We will hear you. Can't you just wait until the rain is over, for the Old Gods' sake?!"

Jon chilled out as soon as he heard Marian's logic plea because he thought that Ros might actually come to her senses – but she didn't.

"Nonsense! People hear us all the time!" Ros said with joy.

Then, Marian just remembered that a few days ago Jon told her something about them being specifically loud during intercourse – and she blushed.

"You choose:" Ros said decisively. "you stay here in the main room and watch, or go to the other room and get some privacy, or… out in the rain. You choose."

Ros had summed it all up for them.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary**: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC

**Disclaimer**: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)

*By the way, for some time now I've been meaning to apologise for also using bits and pieces from other TV series (let's formally call them 'inspirational sources', it sounds a lot _cuter_, right?) like Breaking Bad or House M.D.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Previously…**

"OK…" Ros said as she let Ghost in and he fled towards Jon and Marian, who were standing close to one another. "OK, guys. I have a good idea. Why don't you, Theon, go lie on my bed… In the meantime, Marian, Jon, please feel free to lock yourselves in the other room."

"WHAT?!" They yelled in unison.

"Otherwise, you'll see absolutely _everything_." Ros concluded with a naughty smile.

"As much as I _detest_ you, Jon, you actually need to _learn_ – so it's best if it's from the master at the game, that is, of course… _me._" Theon shot out with pride.

Jon grunted something intelligible.

"Ros," Marian said with worry. "are you sure you wanna do this? Are you nuts? We will hear you. Can't you just wait until the rain is over, for the Old Gods' sake?!"

Jon chilled out as soon as he heard Marian's logic plea because he thought that Ros might actually come to her senses – but she didn't.

"Nonsense! People hear us all the time!" Ros said with joy.

Then, Marian just remembered that a few days ago Jon told her something about them being specifically loud during intercourse – and she blushed.

"You choose:" Ros said decisively. "you stay here in the main room and watch, or go to the other room and get some privacy, or… out in the rain. You choose."

Ros had summed it all up for them.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 6: The wildlings attack**

"The other room." Marian replied half angry at Ros, half relieved that Jon, Ghost and her could physically escape from such an explicit sex scene… and that mad, hellish storm outside.

She went straight to Jon and pushed him to the other room. He didn't resist it – he would've agreed to the same option, even though it wasn't the best. As soon as she shut the door closed, neither she nor Jon could meet each other's eyes. Both were blushing far too much.

That other room was a lot smaller. It was a small dressing room/bathroom. Theon and Ros started giggling lightly, but soon enough, that giggling became a series of playful moans and grunts.

"Now this is going to be uncomfortable." Marian whispered to Jon with a nervous smile on her face.

"You bet." Jon replied whispering while staring at a small window, giving her his back. Ghost was there, near his legs.

"What do you do to block the sound out of your head?" She asked him whispering, still unable to look his way.

"I can't. I've tried to put a pillow over my head, but it doesn't work."

"No pillows in here anyway." She whispered feeling uncomfortable. "Should we try to talk about something?"

Silence.

Well, _not really_.

Moaning. Tons and tons of moaning filtering through the fissures on the surface and the sides of the door. It almost felt as if there was no door at all. Besides, the storm outside was far from gentle, as well. The thunders and the heavy raining never seemed to stop.

"I'll try anything, please." Jon whispered.

"OK, what… have you done today so far?" Marian asked him, trying to chat casually, daring to look at him for the first time.

"Not much, really." He went on, also daring to look at her, finally. "The highlight of the day has been what you've done for little Diane. That was amazing." He said warmly, hinting a smile at her.

She blushed.

"I… want to ask you something." Jon whispered back at her, trying to ignore Ros' moaning.

"Sure." She whispered back at him.

"Why didn't you tell me that your father was ill?" He asked fearing that he shouldn't be asking such things so straightforwardly.

"It's… _complicated_. I feel… It…" She hesitated, feeling a tsunami of sadness overwhelming her.

"You can tell me. I'm not gonna mock you, or…" He tried to soothe her.

"I know, I know, but it's hard, you know. It _hurts_ so bad…"

He regretted having come up with such a topic. Right after that, he regretted falling silent again, since the moaning from the other room felt louder and louder.

"You don't want to talk about it. It's fine." He whispered back at her with kindness. "I get it."

"OK." She whispered back, feeling mildly relieved.

"But I'm still amazed that you're willing to go on such a quest on your own." He added unable not to worry about her well-being.

"What wouldn't _you_ do if it was _your_ father, Jon?" She asked whispering, with an unbearable sadness clouding her beautiful voice.

"There are a lot of risks. Westeros is full of dangerous people." He insisted, worrying a bit _too much_ then, and he knew it. Ever since she had 'taken care' of Theon at the brothel, Jon had found it hard to cope with the idea that Marian could handle the roughest parts of that blood-thirsty world. "But you're a _dangerous_ woman, I get it."

"Hey, don't blame me." She shot back with mild pride, smiling at him, a smile he'd love to drown in. "I live in a _dangerous_ world, too… And you look quite dangerous yourself." She whispered a bit coyly.

"Dangerous?!" Jon whispered with amazement. "Me?!"

"That dark look in your eyes when you faced Theon the day we met..." She went on rather sheepishly. "I would _never_ want to anger you."

His heart started to race madly. He never thought he was a fearful thing to behold, much less to a woman like her.

"Even though I've already done so once." She said whispering with shame, biting her lower lip once she had said those words.

"Just… forget it ever happened." He replied whispering, also feeling ashamed, staring at her lovely sea shell necklace instead of her beautiful, charming eyes.

'How _could_ I?' She thought hopelessly. 'Honestly, Jon, how _could_ I ever forget those sinful yet spurring eyes of yours?'

All of a sudden, Ghost decided to 'help' them. That was why he went right next to Jon and, while he pretended to ask to be petted, he slid his head to Jon's legs to push him to Marian, who was standing not far from him, of course, since the room had minimal space in which to move. It felt like a big wardrobe instead of a small room, actually – with two people and a direwolf in it.

Half a step and Jon was already leaning over Marian because there wasn't much space left. He tried to stop Ghost's plan by putting his hands on either side of the room, that is, one hand on the surface of the door and the other on the wall facing it. He could stop Ghost's motion towards her – and then Ghost let out a small pleading grunt. He was displeased, of course.

"Ghost," Jon grunted back at him a bit angry. "what do you think you're doing?"

He didn't answer of course, but then he just decided to lie down on the floor while occupying the majority of the free space left.

"I _hate_ you sometimes…" Jon concluded whispering.

Marian was looking at both of them and seemed amused by what she had just seen. Jon loved that expression on her face and stared at her intense eyes for some time, until she locked her gaze with his and time froze. They blushed while the moaning escalated more and more in the other room. Theon and Ros were insatiable…

"They are doing it on purpose, you know." Marian whispered.

"Yeah, I know." Jon whispered back tenderly.

"How's it going in there?!" Theon yelled at them, making fun of Jon, while his angry thrusts could be heard through Ros' hopeless moaning fits. "Do you know where to put it or shall I come and teach you?!"

Both Jon and Marian blushed wildly, but Jon's blush died as soon as his rage was set free. He clenched his fists until they started trembling. Marian gasped silently when she saw his dark, killer eyes.

"Come on!" Ros yelled. "It's not as though you're engaged, aren't you? Join us!"

"His _stupid_ honour wouldn't let him anyways." Theon added with cheek.

Jon was about to lose his temper and Marian began to panic. That was when she took both his clenched fists into her hands with tenderness. At that, Jon's anger-driven mind snapped out of its trace and stared silently at her.

"Jon," Marian whispered very lowly and slowly. "don't answer. Don't even _listen_. That's what they want. Do _you_ want it?"

Jon felt her words soothing him all and he hugged her all of a sudden. He couldn't take it anymore. He leaned his head on her left shoulder. He could smell her hair – another relaxing token of her presence. She blushed but loved the contact. And then her heart started racing madly within her chest, like his was already doing.

Out of the blue, she saw the window at which Jon had been staring before, when they had entered the small room. It was big enough to escape through it, except for Ghost, who was far too big for it.

"Jon," She whispered as if she had just had a wild, crazy idea, which made him look straight at her. "I think I've got it." She pointed at the window. "Fancy getting a bit wet? _Literally_, of course."

Outside the rain was mercilessly falling from the skies above, and several lightnings were rolling above and under the dark clouds over and over again.

"Only a bit?" He whispered back to her smiling.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Jon and Marian entered the study room in a rush, giggling and wet all over. The storm was wilder and wilder, the thunders kept roaring in the skies.

"Wow… That was crazy! Do you think they noticed we're gone?" Marian asked him almost out of breath and giggling freely. They had madly run all the way.

"They were too busy to care, I'm afraid." Jon whispered back, smiling, while closing the huge door.

"I think I should've gone out the second Theon entered. I should've known better." Marian acknowledged, still with a smile on her face.

Her clothes were too wet and, therefore, they displayed ever single curve of her delicately sinuous body, especially those areas which were meant to be hidden. Jon noticed it immediately and swallowed. Some water drops were still dripping from her long, dark hair as she moved.

"You didn't know, did you?" He said with a progressively huskier voice.

"You told me some days ago, don't you remember?" She remarked feeling a bit embarrassed. "That they do it almost every day and that they are specifically loud."

They fell silent all of a sudden as they remembered that early morning conversation the morning after Marian had helped Ros and the girls make those Qarth-inspired dresses and taught them how to dance in their style. Jon had come to her bedroom door very early, when she wasn't even awake – not to mention dressed. And later they had been talking about precisely that.

Jon's clothes were also soaking wet and, thus, Marian couldn't help but notice his well-built chest and arms beneath his clothing. His dishevelled, wet hair almost made her shiver. She had to divert her gaze to the floor.

"Anyway," Marian changed the subject, trying not to show the blush on her cheeks too much. "I think I've got some towels over here."

As she went to a large wardrobe, she tried to consciously chill out, breathing in and out as slowly as she could manage. She opened the wardrobe and started to get some towels for them. In the meantime, he was still staring at her from behind – and she could feel every inch of his penetrating gaze on her.

"I don't think anyone will bother to come over here today bearing in mind this awful weather. We'll have plenty of time to ourselves today." She said cheerfully passing a towel to Jon, trying to sound normal, but the second she had said those words she realised she may have invited him to make a move – and her heart couldn't help but heating up.

He took the towel from her. She bit her lower lip, facing the wardrobe again. She just got another towel for herself and started to dry her hair industriously. So did Jon. A few minutes later, since none of them had said a single word, Marian shyly turned around only to find Jon giving her his back while leaning a bit on the table, still trying to dry his hair.

Right when she opened her mouth to say something, he turned around and raised a hand to her, with his forefinger up as if he was asking her to be silent. He tried to listen carefully, and so did she, expecting something to happen since his facial expression had suddenly changed to one of worry and anger.

They could hear a metal sound from outside and a grunt. Later, a dead thud. That was when Jon silently let his towel on the table and carefully went to one of the windows to check what was going on outside, but what he saw was far worse than he had expected: some wildlings had succeeded in entering the walls of Winterfell, taking advantage of the lack of guards due to the heavy raining. The few guards that they had actually found were killed, their corpses laying by the side of the small bonfires they had lit in a dry corner of a stable while trying to find some refuge from that hellish rain.

"Wildlings…" Jon whispered to Marian with worry, his levels of testosterone rising while checking on his sword, hanging from his belt. "I've got to warn the soldiers and fight back. Marian," He told her serious as hell while holding both her arms to make her pay attention to his words. "don't go out. I mean it. Stay inside and try not to move or lit anything. Make as if there's no one in here, all right? Lock all windows and the door once I've gone out. Hide in the wardrobe or something. I'll be back when this is over, I swear."

"Be careful, Jon." She replied whispering while his fingers were still sinking in the wet, soft cloth of the sleeves of her dress.

He swallowed as he stared at her for some blissful seconds in complete silence. He suddenly thought of what other men would do in such a situation, but he soon shook the thought out of his head. He had no right to kiss her as if there was no tomorrow. That was why he decided to gently close his eyes for a second, stop holding her and rush to the door and leave altogether. Marian had immediately felt his hesitation, but didn't dare to say anything further.

When Jon's hand was on the doorknob, he grunted lowly, just once, and his lips drew a mockery of a smile. He actually looked like in pain, but for once in his life he decided to be reckless about it. That was when he turned around and rushed back to her, who was still staring at him – and then he kissed her. He pushed his body towards her in a desperate attempt to melt with her, holding both her cheeks while his lips were mercilessly reaping their first kiss.

"Lock the door." He whispered back at her once his lips parted from hers with a dark, husky voice.

She was left with throbbing, parted lips, as if she was waiting for more to come. He rushed back to the door and fled to battle before she could even complain about it.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

An hour later, it was still raining and Marian was still alone in Maester Luwin's study room, pretending no one was there while trying to peep out of a window. While men were being slaughtered outside and the pouring blood mixed with the water drops and the mud, she was dying to see Jon, whether he was safe and sound or not. The yelling was the worst. She didn't care that he'd told her to hide – she was brave enough to handle that kind of trouble. The only thing that kept her in a constant state of distress was the fact that she was worried about Jon's welfare.

She sighed every now and then, hoping that the battle would end soon enough, that Jon would come back.

'But…' She thought with crimson on her cheeks. 'what will I do when he comes back? What will _he_ do? Oh dear Old Gods…That kiss was _not_ meant to happen. Neither of us can afford it. Now what? It's not as though I can fake it has never happened!'

Out of the blue, an arrow was shot against her window and it broke the glass. It scared the hell out of Marian, but it didn't hurt her. She took advantage of it: since she was also a good archer herself, she got her bow and some arrows and tried to be useful using the broken hole in the window. If Jon saw her, he'd be mad at her.

'At least I'll have something to talk about with him which isn't that heated kiss…' She thought with some sort of relief.

Then, she saw Robb fighting a man who was far taller than him on top of the city walls. It looked as if that man was about to beat the hell out of him. Robb was having a hard time defending himself from those ill-meant blows with the sword. Then, another wildling appeared out of nowhere right behind Robb. He would have to fight both in an unfair battle.

Marian gasped briefly and didn't hesitate one bit when she shot an arrow at the second wildling. She had aimed at the wildling's shoulder with an unbeatable precision, so much so that the guy fell off the wall and painfully landed on the other side. Since the city walls were quite high, falling meant a certain death. Robb instantly knew someone had helped him and shot his gaze at his saviour – that was when he saw Marian staring from the broken window of the study room with a bow in her hands. He smiled warmly at her while the rain kept falling madly from the skies over him and the men kept fighting fiercely around him.

But Marian got paler and paler: she had never killed a man before. She had never aimed to kill, only to wound or distract. In the meantime, Robb could successfully deal with his initial, rough opponent and kill him. A few minutes later, the wildling troops were backing off and they eventually fled, although the vast majority had been killed.

Remorse was eating Marian from within when there was a loud knocking on the study room's door. It was Robb.

"Marian!" He pleaded almost out of breath. "Marian! Open up, please!"

She went straight to the door and unlocked it. Apparently, Robb was extremely grateful for what she had done to save him, so much so that the second she'd opened the door to him he rushed to her and hugged her as if he would never part from her in their entire lives. She could feel his wet, curly hair on her left cheek as he embraced her tightly. His wet clothes were soaking hers, which were just mildly dry then. She was feeling cold, but being hugged with such vehemence was somehow making her feel hot.

Then, over his shoulder she could see Jon right outside, standing frozen under the rain while witnessing the impossible scene before him. His pose was still mighty and blood-thirsty from the battle, but since there were no opponents left, he was trying to cool down. His chest was still heaving due to the exercise, but his heart was drumming louder and louder due to what his eyes were seeing. His sword was still drawn, but it was hanging lower and lower as his right arm seemed to lose all its strength. Yet the fingers around the hilt were tense and tight, marking the lines where the bones lay underneath. She felt a cold chill within her when his eyes darkened.

"I'm so so so so grateful to you, Marian!" Robb told her with joy, still hugging her. "I could've died up there! You've saved me!"

His thrill and gratefulness was overwhelming.

"Don't mention it." She whispered back trying to sound neutral. "It was the least I could do."

She saw how Jon suddenly put his sword back in the sheath and walked slowly towards them. That was when she suddenly felt an urgent need of being released from Robb's arms. She moved just lightly, and Robb understood that the hugging had to come to an end.

"What would we do without you?" Robb whispered back to her with love.

"You're too kind. You don't need me that much." She replied.

"Nonsense. I'll tell my father. When _he_ knows, he'll…" Robb said with pride while Jon stopped by the door and remained there, listening.

"No, no, no…!" She rushed to cut Robb's train of thought before it was too late. "No, please, don't. It's… _too…much_… already." She didn't really know how to voice her concerns to him. She was in panic. They had never shared any degree of intimacy – unlike with Jon.

"What are you talking about?" Robb asked her.

"I shot an arrow at him and I _killed_ him. It's _bad_ enough as it is!" She complained breathing hard and frowning with worry.

Robb raised an eyebrow at her. He didn't get it.

"Robb, I'm a doctor." She insisted. "I don't _kill_ people,… quite the opposite." She whispered back at him with remorse. Her hands started to shake uncontrollably and he knew what was going on inside her head: she couldn't take it. She had done something which went against her morale and usual behaviour, and she couldn't stand it. Both Robb and Jon felt sorry for her.

"I'm… I'm sorry." Robb whispered back at her and hugged her again, this time with more softness and very, very carefully. She hid her face under his neck while Jon was getting a lot tenser. He didn't like Robb's physical insistence over her.

"I aimed at his shoulder precisely because of that. That's what I usually do." She whispered full of regret. "But he's fallen down the city walls. He must've died."

"You did well. You had good intentions. Besides," Robb tried to soothe her with a gentle tone of voice. "I've seen him. He's fallen on a group of bushes out there. He was limping his way out of battle."

Jon raised an eyebrow at his brother's comment. He didn't like this one bit.

"Really?" She whispered back trying to hold back the tears.

"Yes, he's not dead. At least not yet. That depends on whether he found an enemy or a friend on his way."

"All right." She whispered back believing him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A few minutes later, Jon ambushed Robb in a corridor.

"What do you think you're doing by lying to Marian about the wildling's death?!" Jon asked him enraged while pushing one of his shoulders.

"I did what had to be done. Don't you get it, Jon?!" Robb shot him back those anger-driven words. He spoke as if he was defending the love of his life. "She couldn't handle it. She shouldn't be held responsible for this. _I_ was the one in trouble; therefore, _I_'m responsible for his death – not _her_. What would _you_ have done?"

"You've _lied_ to her. She's smart. _Too smart_." Jon insisted with anger. "She'll know soon enough and then she'll _break down_ again. On top of that, she'll be mad at you."

"That's why I've commanded that the area should be burnt together with the dead wildlings' bodies." Robb told him seriously and darkly. "That way she can't find out the inexistence of those bushes I've just mentioned. Now, stop it and step aside."

Jon froze. He couldn't believe that his brother could be such a smart and dark liar.

"But before I go and speak with our father about Marian," Robb said with a deadly serious tone of voice. "tell me something, Jon."

Jon was still gaping at him.

"Do you _like_ her, Jon?" Robb asked him with a threatening expression in his eyes.

"I like her according to my rank and position, not more, not less." Jon said dryly and left.

Robb didn't believe a word of it, of course. They had known each other long enough to know when he was lying to him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In the meantime, Marian and Maester Luwin were attending the wounded. The sombre wake of war had crossed the fate of many that day, and it could be seen on their scarred faces, their deep wrinkles of worry and the ice-cold tears of children. Their piercing wailing tore Marian's heart.

Some of the wounded could actually walk and come to the study room, and they were healed there, but the majority had to be treated _in situ_, where they had been badly hurt. Therefore, Marian and Maester Luwin spent the rest of the day from one hut to the next, finding wailing people who begged for urgent medical attention in almost every corner. When their job was over, Lord Stark summoned them.

Exhausted as they were, their only thoughts were for peace, quiet, something to eat and rest. But they had been summoned and therefore rest had to be postponed.

"Marian and Maester Luwin, how undoubtedly grateful I am to have you both!" Lord Stark was pleased to say. "Especially _you_, young lady." He added with a broad smile on his face.

"I assume that Robb may have mentioned _something_ about me and…" Marian tactfully said. She knew that Robb would spill the beans and that Lord Stark would be _amazingly generous _and _mysterious_ again.

"_Of course_ he has! And I'm very grateful to you for saving him. He's my heir… my eldest son. I care for him a great deal. And I'm relieved to find out that someone else is _also_ taking care of him when I'm not looking."

For a second she thought that Lord Stark would offer her his hand in marriage, bearing in mind his amiable tone of voice and the stresses he made, but the mere thought of it made her feel stupid. Lord Stark felt in debt with her, but that didn't automatically mean that she could marry Robb. She was not even a member of the nobility.

"I told you I had a treat for you." Lord Stark went on. "I haven't forgotten. But now it seems that I'll need something more…"

"Lord Stark, if I may speak on this matter, I'd love to say something." She was beginning to sweat. She didn't like being treated like a goddess, hailed for her work at such a divine level.

"Speak, young lady."

"You don't owe me anything, Lord Stark. I'm glad to help when I'm needed. I don't need any sort of reward, or treat, or… anything. I'm happy as long as no one suffers or dies." She humbly said.

"That's very sweet of you, but I insist, young lady, that you accept my gift. Give me a couple of days… and let me surprise you."

"Fair enough." She gave in with a sigh because she knew there was no way out of that one.

So there he was again, talking rainbows of gratitude… and that mysterious gift also into the bargain. She wondered what it could be.

"Now I need to speak with Maester Luwin alone." Lord Stark said. "If you excuse us…"

At that, Marian bowed and left the room immediately.

"Are you sure about this, m'lord?" Maester Luwin inquired, displaying that he already knew what was going to happen.

"Absolutely." Lord Stark replied with a warm smile on his face. "More than I ever was."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Jon had decided to wait for her in the study room. She might come back a bit later, since he knew she had been summoned by Lord Stark at that hour. But it couldn't wait anymore. He couldn't wait anymore. He had spent far too many days undergoing that torture. He needed some sort of closure.

Since he knew he was too shy and clumsy with words, he had to try a different approach to her – something more striking, unavoidable, and primal… like their first kiss. Unexpected and undeniable. He began to undo his jacket and shirt and left them resting on a nearby wooden chair. His trousers still had some blood stains of his fallen enemies on them. At least, he had washed his hands so that the blood would be washed away from his skin.

She'd face him bare-chested, waiting. For a second he was sure that that strategy didn't fit him, that she'd feel threatened, that she'd shy off or try to get him back to common sense – and yet he hoped with unjustified joy that what she'd face would be so radical a change that she wouldn't be able to use her mind the way she was used to. Would she be able to unsheathe her _swordish_ mind if she faced the glory of his half-naked body? Would it paralyse her as much as her half-naked body had paralysed him when he had to cure her aching dislocated shoulder that fine morning a few days ago?

And yes, he was feeling joy at the prospect of melting into her even though he hadn't wooed her properly, that is, the way a regular man would – because he couldn't. Despite the fact that she'd treated him like a normal person, he couldn't.

Accidentally, he thought of Robb and his tender hugging of her body when she had most needed it. That had triggered the worst pang of jealousy that he had ever felt in his entire life. _He_ could flirt with her openly and freely if he chose to. Their last conversation ended with a confirmation of his awful state of affairs in social terms and, therefore, his unsuitability for her. In spite of that, he was willing to risk everything just to have a temporary reprieve before it was too late.

A few minutes later, Marian opened the door of the study room thinking there was nobody in it – and she gasped when she saw a bare-chested John giving her his back, peacefully waiting with his hands lying on the large, wooden table, his arms spread on either side so that his biceps and triceps would stand out, outlined in front of the evening light of the setting sun shed from the window which stood right in front of him. His unruly curly hair seemed to glow like a ghost or a god – or both at the same time. Once he'd heard her coming in, he had turned his head slowly towards her, spying her from over his left shoulder. His spine was glorious, like a strong tree-trunk which holds a million leaves.

She froze and the thick door gradually closed on its own. When the soft, closing click sound filled the air, she got scared that Jon may have been waiting for her to return because he may have suffered an injury on the upper part of his body or something during the battle. How careless had she been! Or so she thought. Marian was always looking for the most plausible explanation, even though she knew there was something _weird_ going on – her guts were practically screaming it to her, but as usual she turned a deaf ear to that gut-based information. That was why she rushed to him with a worried face, ready to help him.

That struck Jon as strange. Marian? Rushing to his arms? No words? No remarks? No questions asked? No lecture on common sense? As simple as that? Impossible.

He shot a raising eyebrow at her while his aching heart began to speed dangerously. What he was about to do was reckless, but it would sure be worth it.

As she got nearer him, her long-eyelashed eyes roamed over his flawless body in their usual analytical style, searching for an inexistent wound. His chiselled chest and abs were outlined with the precision of a professional sculptor, who had wickedly devised a demigod in flesh and bone with a wide chest and a narrow, manly waist. And she could be endlessly staring at him. At that, Jon blushed but suspected something was the matter with her, no doubt.

"Are you OK? Where is it? Where does it hurt?" She pushed those words out of her delightful lips in a rush, pushing him to tell her where it hurt him.

Dear Old Gods, she was hopelessly clueless! That was when he chuckled and closed his eyes in a sudden admission that the girl he had fallen for was completely innocent and naïve like no other. He smiled tenderly at her for a couple of seconds, not daring to say a word, taking her innocence in. He had to remember that the fewer words, the better.

"Here." He softly whispered back at her while taking her right hand into his and raising it to meet the soft skin over his heart.

Her right hand still had some bloodstains from her patients: it was the blood of _life_, whereas the lingering blood on his persona was the blood of _death_ – or that was what Jon thought at that precise moment.

His eyelids came halfway down to meet the still naïve expression on her face. He hadn't been wounded during the battle. She mildly tilted her head sideways, like Ghost would, and raised an eyebrow. She didn't get it until he decided to take the decisive step into the void between them: he took a short step towards her and leaned his face over hers. His slow pace was calculated to let her know his intentions on her, to give her one last chance to say no if she didn't want it – and she didn't.

Therefore, as his nose got nearer hers, she knew what he actually had in mind. Then, she blushed wildly and stopped breathing. It was the moment she was expecting with nervousness and dread, and yet she wanted it to happen. She could've run away – and he'd let her. He gently made the tip of his nose rest on hers and stared directly into her eyes, still holding her hand over his heart. She felt hers skip a beat. A second later, he let his nose slip onto her cheek and his lips lightly brushed hers in a purely compassionate gesture. She could still push him away – and she didn't.

The promise that Jon had made to himself – that he'd be patient and a gentleman – got smashed into smithereens the instant he'd touched her lips, since he could not resist temptation anymore. He let out a mildly resentful grunt and, the next thing she knew, he was wrapping her with his arms, pushing her towards the bookshelves which were right behind her, while his lips thundered all their passion over hers.

He pushed his tongue past her lips and, demanding as the kiss was, it conquered any degree of sanity and common sense within her. She just gently put her hands on his chest, wishing she had been more careful and trusted her guts when she had come into the room – but those thoughts were fading away and away. She could've still slapped his god-like face then and he would've understood – but, _oh_, she didn't.

That intriguing list of _didn'ts_ was rocketing Jon's pride like never before, like the kind path that her fingers started to trace up to his jawline and cheeks. The touch of her fingertips was electrifying. That was why he decided to play the game a bit more daringly: he took his iron-bent arms from around her body and each hand got hold of each of her hands. His fingers coiled around her palms and slid down below to both her wrists so that he could push them onto the bookshelves as well, slightly above her head, sinking his fingertips into her tender flesh in the meantime. His ruthless attack on her exposed, throbbing lips was no more; but, to her amazement, he went straight to softly bite her jawline and neck. That shot a shiver down her spine, scary but delicious, nonetheless. She couldn't help but releasing a meek, little moan.

A single question crossed the sky of her mind: why was he so straightforward and daring then? Why? And, as an answer, all the kind, cosy and intimate moments that they had shared flashed alight in the darkness behind her closed eyelids, one after the other, a genuine smile here, a warm comment there – every single time she'd been nice to him was being rewarded; every single time he'd released his true self became a token of love.

And she remembered her injured shoulder and his healing hands on her skin…

And later she remembered her daring dancing performance and his reaction…

And the touch of his lips right before the battle…

_Beware the wolf…_

Marian smiled at the ceiling with her eyes closed thinking of Ros' comment while Jon was kissing her jaw and neck. He actually _was_ eating her alive, in a metaphorical sense of the expression, of course. They were both too loaded with easily combining and combusting emotions. She was fed up with piling them up and ignoring them – like he had also done until that moment. She wanted to abandon herself on a boat into that sea of man that Jon was. That was when he pushed his hips onto hers again and she knew she'd drown in it soon enough. She began to feel that hungry heat that the lower part of his body was emanating.

In spite of the frenzy of that liberating, shared moment, something made them stop all of a sudden: they heard a noise coming from the corridor and they froze immediately, staring into each other's eyes in sudden, silent shame and panic. The only problem was that the noise didn't actually come from the corridor itself, but rather from the very same room… From the wardrobe on the corner, right next to the door, that sound had come. As soon as both Marian and Jon turned their eyes to meet the intruder, they realised that the wardrobe door was ajar – and Arya was right behind it.

"Arya!" Marian exclaimed breathlessly.

Jon clenched his teeth violently, closed his eyes darkly, with shame, and let out a badly repressed grunt as he disentangled himself from his recently hunted love prey. There was no easy way out of it, but there was nothing in the world that couldn't stop him from being royally pissed off at his little sister. That was why he came towards her, walking angry strides, and before she could even mumble half an apology, he angrily shut the wardrobe door closed, leaned the weight of his body on both his hands on the wooden surface, and, staring at the door with killer eyes, he professed thus:

"Don't you dare spy on us again." His voice was darker than Marian had ever heard before. "If you tell anyone on us, beware."

There was a crucial pause and they could hear a tiny sob coming from the wardrobe.

"Now… I'll open the door and you'll flee IMMEDIATELY." He grunted.

That was when he opened first the door of the study room and then the wardrobe's. As soon as he'd done so, Arya fled faster than the wind. She didn't want to cross her brother ever again. He slammed the door of the study room shut.

Alone as they were, then for real, Jon didn't dare to look back at Marian, even though he'd done far too many shameful things to her in the course of the last few minutes… and what he'd definitely done to her if he hadn't been interrupted.

"Jon…" Her voice was shaking like a leaf, half afraid, but half hot.

His plan had been foiled; his mood, demolished. For a second he thought of getting his shirt back and storm out of the study room… and never speak of it ever again. On second thoughts, he believed she deserved that he should finish what he had started.

"I'm… sorry, Marian." Jon finally said as if he was regretting what he'd done. The restraining half of his mind was winning the battle.

"W… w-what?" Marian whispered back at him, unable to believe him.

"I've pushed you…" He whispered feeling shame and guilt. "I shouldn't've."

"What are you talking about?" She whispered getting indignant.

At that, Jon dared to look back at her with wonder and excitement in his eyes. Once he had done so, she was already coming to him to hold his cheeks and kiss him. His fire gladly revived within him. Would she ever reject him? The mere thought was dumb – Marian had, from the very first day they had met, treated him like no other person ever would. It was no different then. She'd always be there.

The kiss was getting heated again…

… until Maester Luwin came walking down the corridor and opened the door, only to find a shaken Marian trying to focus on a book and horribly failing at it. Her cheeks were aflame and her lips, swollen for no reason at all – or so it seemed.

"Marian, I need to ask you something, uh…" Maester Luwin made a pause and then he continued thus: "Oops. Seems like a patient has forgot his jacket here." He said with a genuinely naïve smile. "Anyway, I came to fetch you. It'll be dinnertime soon."

Marian agreed to leave immediately and, once they were already crossing the threshold and closing the door of the study room, the wardrobe's door slowly opened, revealing a chest-heaving but quiet Jon Snow holding the knob.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Later, that same night, in Marian's room…

"How to please a man 101." Ros announced with pride.

"I don't like the title, Miss Ros." Marian complained.

Ros had come and visited Marian because Ros had promised her she'd reveal a special kind of 'knowledge' to her. Unfortunately, the last time Theon had interrupted them before Marian could make any progress at all.

"Very well. What do you suggest instead?" Ros asked her with a warm smile on her face, while sitting on the bed.

"It doesn't need a title. Let's just not tag it… It's how I feel…" Marian replied hesitating and rather sad. She also sat on the bed, by her side.

"Good, because I need to be sure you _feel_ like doing this, Marian." Ros added whispering tenderly.

"I think I'm ready." Marian whispered back.

That was the cue for Ros to start the ball rolling. She raised her right hand and cupped Marian's chin with great care.

"Do whatever you want. You must remember that you're completely free, Marian." Ros insisted whispering with tenderness. "Either meek or daring, feel free to do it to me. And it's OK if you want to think it's him and not me – or not. Do as you please. You choose. You _always_ get to choose."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary**: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC

**Disclaimer**: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Previously…**

Later, that same night, in Marian's room…

"How to please a man 101." Ros announced with pride.

"I don't like the title, Miss Ros." Marian complained.

Ros had come and visited Marian because Ros had promised her she'd reveal a special kind of 'knowledge' to her. Unfortunately, the last time Theon had interrupted them before Marian could make any progress at all.

"Very well. What do you suggest instead?" Ros asked her with a warm smile on her face, while sitting on the bed.

"It doesn't need a title. Let's just not tag it… It's how I feel…" Marian replied hesitating and rather sad. She also sat on the bed, by her side.

"Good, because I need to be sure you _feel_ like doing this, Marian." Ros added whispering tenderly.

"I think I'm ready." Marian whispered back.

That was the cue for Ros to start the ball rolling. She raised her right hand and cupped Marian's chin with great care.

"Do whatever you want. You must remember that you're completely free, Marian." Ros insisted whispering with tenderness. "Either meek or daring, feel free to do it to me. And it's OK if you want to think it's him and not me – or not. Do as you please. You choose. You _always_ get to choose."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 7: Snow and ants**

"I understand." Marian replied whispering as if she had been bewitched.

As soon as silence reigned in Marian's bedroom, Ros leaned over Marian and kissed her gently on the lips. Marian didn't feel at ease with that, because she'd love her to be Jon, but it made something click within her. The mere touch ignited a shooting star within her mind – and she closed her eyes with fierceness and made a wish upon that star.

And what wish would that be? Certainly, I won't answer that. You may take your own conclusions.

Ros slowly guided Marian's hands to touch her face and her neck, and later she started to caress Marian bit by bit, gently – and the slowlier and lighter she touched her, the more impact it had on her. Clothes were taken off. Marian moaned freely and shamelessly at some point some minutes later – and she didn't care on bit to be heard.

The bed soon became a golden altar devoted to a god of made of flesh and bones and pleasure, but the admission of that state of affairs couldn't be considered blasphemous, since the purpose had long gone been forgotten. Religions often portray a final goal, a sacred objective, or a pattern of behaviour which needs to be duly woven and dutifully fulfilled. Once there's no goal to achieve, which was the case then, no sacrifices have to be met, no guilt has to be reported, and no blasphemy can ever exist. Therefore, the pure, unadulterated feeling of being there and then, endlessly and forgetfully giving and receiving as if life was only meant to be like that – those soft invigorating touches, those feathered-like kisses, those never-fading reverberating moans, those cliff-deep liberating gazes –, was not the food or a sacrifice to any God, even though it felt divine. There were no confessions to make, no secrets to unveil, no stains to cleanse – just the admission of the fact that one's existence was inextricably linked to joy and pleasure. No judgements, no passing sentences, no classes, no boundaries, no hurtful or debasing questions – just love defined as the widest spectrum of shapes and colours that could ever exist amongst the human species.

And words were lost. She couldn't compare it to anything she had ever felt before. It was as if her body had always lived in an endless winter and all of a sudden it flowered and heated as if summer was pacing down on a red carpet towards her. She wanted Jon to be there for her – but it would have to wait.

Mistress of the unspoken as she was, Ros proceeded to show Marian the unexplored world of pleasure, diligently, gladly and speechless. But right when they got to lower body areas, Marian grabbed Ros' hands all of a sudden.

"No…" Marian whispered back at Ros, exhaling heat from her mouth with tiredness as if she was a long extinct, ghostly dragon. "Not yet… Not you. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry. I get it." Ros whispered back at her with a warm smile. "I guess you're ready."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Marian was meditating the next morning before her usual trip to the woods in her bedroom. She had been gathering more white flowers with Jon and she was expecting to find more to be able to keep on investigating and preparing the definitive cure. Nevertheless, her mind was busy with other types of thoughts, which inevitably involved Jon and herself – and her newly acquired 'knowledge'.

She was sitting on her bed and, blushing wildly while remembering Jon's decisive step towards her the previous evening, she admitted she didn't even want to think of Josua anymore. In fact, ever since she had met Jon she had stopped thinking about him the way she used to do, that is, with some heartfelt doubts and sort of timid expectations that what she felt would develop into real fancy someday, and that she'd eventually make him happy. She had recalled Josua's presence like that of a protective, elder brother or a devoted friend, rather than a potential suitor.

A suitor.

A _suitor_, like the root of the word implied, should _suit_ her. Josua could suit her. But Jon couldn't: he was a bastard in Winterfell who was due to go to the Wall. And she was a regular girl due to return to the sun-basked, warm Qarth. And she frowned. She knew that information was not new, it was not a revelation, and yet somehow it had managed to suddenly acquire a life of its own – and a knife. Because it was stabbing her with unmatched cruelty and it hurt badly, very badly.

She inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to think out of the box. As she did so, she stood up from her bed and came near her window. The wind was howling with a fierce sadness outside. When she drew the curtains open, she realised that there would not be a trip that morning, or the next, or the next after that: Winterfell was gorgeously covered in vast quantities of pure, white snow, so much so that the view before her seemed a huge white pool. She had never seen so much snow in her entire life. In spite of its beauty, she realised that snow could be dangerous. Then, she could check the appalling amount of snow which covered the ground once she saw that the doors were almost fully covered. Since it was still snowing hard, she had no doubt that the snow would very soon reach the first floor level.

Feeling the need to speak about it with anyone, she fled from her room to the upper floors were others were still sleeping. But she feared knocking on those doors and waking them all up before it was necessary. The snow would still be there when they would. She should try to relax on her own. The people in Winterfell might already be used to that amount of snow.

But she wanted to see how far the snow had reached. The higher she went up the stairs, the view from every window told her the same story: a mighty, fearful, desert, wintry land was imposing itself on Winterfell and its surroundings, bending the nearby mountains and hills into vast extensions of sterile, white tundra, wildly undulating like an anger-driven sea. It had no beginning and no end.

Scared of the power of nature, she realised she wanted to speak her mind to the only person whom she thought that would appease her mind, that is, Jon, who was probably still sleeping in his bedroom in one of those rooms in the floors beneath her feet, since she was in the fourth floor, the servants' floor.

Temptation… But she didn't know which his bedroom door was. Why _should_ she know anyway? Knowing which of those doors was his could be interpreted in the wrong way – if anybody saw her, at least.

"_Good morning_, Miss Bluegin." A gentle, male voice said behind her.

She turned around and replied, gently and happy as she could be.

"'Good morning' you say? Funny expression for a northerner, I'm afraid,…" She dared to answer. "… Lord Stark."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Great." Cersei complained in her usual dry, mockery voice. "Now we're stuck in this cold, winter hell."

Their carriage had to come to a halt due to the heavy snowfall.

"I thought that these heavily furred cloaks I bought you would help in that matter." King Robert Baratheon shot back at his wife with sarcasm.

"So you knew the weather would be this awful."

"Drink some more wine, it'll warm you up better than having an argument with me." He dryly added. He didn't want to lose his temper bearing in mind that their carriage was stuck there due to the snow and that its walls were thin like a sheet of paper. "We'll soon be out of here. I have no desire to stay in this state longer that it is necessary. There's an inn nearby. We could stop there."

They were on their way to Winterfell and the snow had caught them by surprise in the middle of the road, so they had to stay for a few more days trapped there, hoping that they could manage not to fight very often over nothing, which it was the norm lately.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"I assume you have never seen so much snow in your lifetime, Miss Bluegin." Lord Stark told her as he came by Marian's side, close to one of the windows of the hallway of that floor. Luckily, the windows and the walls were quite thick and they didn't let the cold in.

"Indeed. I don't think I'll be able to gather more herbs in quite a while." She said sadly. "Does it snow like this very often here, m'lord?" She asked naively then, realising that there was no point in complaining about the nasty weather any longer. The snow would stay and reign for a long time.

"I'm afraid not." He admitted with a frustrated sigh. "This heavy snowfall is exceptional. I'm afraid that Winterfell won't be able to proceed with its normal, daily routine due to the excess of snow. We're well provided, for that you don't have to worry, but _I_ am worried indeed. I was hoping to receive a raven from the king early this morning… about their visit here. They're already on their way and I assume they must have fallen victims of this appalling weather."

"I assume the raven has not yet arrived then."

"No, it hasn't. I have no news whatsoever."

"What if the royal family is trapped somewhere and you don't know it, m'lord?" She asked worried.

"My thoughts precisely. I should send some men out there. Just in case. Besides, they could bring back more men and equipment from the nearby towns and villages who owe their allegiance to me to help us out, should we run short of food or fuel if the snow goes on falling at this pace."

"We're all trapped in here. I hope you'll excuse me for asking this, but how will your men manage to get out, m'lord?"

"I have absolutely no idea." He admitted defeated, but then a gentle smile was drawn on his face as he stared at her. "But I was hoping that a young, bright mind might have a brilliant idea to save us once more…"

"Y-you mean…?!" She asked with amazement, stammering and blushing a bit.

"Surprise me again, Miss Bluegin." He whispered to her smiling broadly.

"I'm just a doctor's apprentice! Not the saviour of the world!" She replied indignantly.

"You may be right, but let me tell you something, young lady." He whispered at her as if he possessed some sort of ultimate knowledge. "You may have already saved someone's world these last few weeks and you probably don't even know about it."

He was relishing in saying those words, but he was enjoying the mystery far more. She blushed a bit because she thought of Jon, but she didn't fully understand how come she could have saved him since he still displayed that he felt miserable, as usual, due to the social treatment he was meant to endure.

"I'll give you a couple of hours to think of something." He added a few seconds later, seeing that she didn't have the guts to reply. "I really need your help here. We need you. Everybody's welfare depends on it – and I know that you can keep up with that responsibility. As a doctor, I assume that you're used to it."

She nodded. Lord Stark was right: she was used to people trusting her fully, depending on her to restore them back to health, to save them. That situation was no different in that sense.

"I'll meet you here in a couple of hours." He said seriously. "By then, I'll also be ready to give you my long-delayed present for you."

Then, he smiled warmly at her and left.

'How can he even think of that _stupid_ present for me in such a bleak weather?' She thought mildly angry.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Half an hour later, Marian was still in front of that same old window, thinking about how to get out of that one, trying hard not to be distracted by her thoughts of Jon. While she was staring out of the window, she was softly biting the lovely little sea shell hanging on her silver necklace. It helped her to think.

"Marian!" Maester Luwin's voice echoed in the hallway. She turned her head to meet him. Robb and Jon were coming with him towards her. "I was looking for you."

"Why, is something the matter?" She asked worried. She hoped there was no medical urgency, since there was already too much on her plate right then.

"You didn't come to have breakfast. I thought you had been trapped out of the castle walls!" He said worried.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She apologised. "I didn't even realise the time. Hasn't Lord Stark told you I was safe and sound in here? He's seen me. Well, in fact, we've been chatting for some minutes up here."

"He's busy and didn't attend breakfast either." Robb suddenly said seriously. He locked his eyes with hers as he spoke.

"He has locked himself in his room." Maester Luwin elaborated. "He looked worried. I didn't think it necessary to bother him asking him about your whereabouts."

"Again, I'm sorry." She insisted. "He's worried about the royal family and the fact that they might've got trapped due to this awful weather."

"I know." Robb went on, his eyes glowing as he got a bit closer to her. "And you?"

"Me?" She asked dumbfounded.

"You also look quite worried yourself. What's the matter?" He asked warmly as if he wanted to ease the psychological weight on her shoulders.

"It's… nothing." She hesitated, more impressed by his rather too obvious concern for her well-being than by his intimidating proximity in front of Maester Luwin and his brother Jon, who was wearing his usual miserable mask of sorrow and harshness, a pose devised by his never-fading, well-trained endurance.

"Hey," Robb insisted with the flawless grace of a devoted lover. "you can tell me anything. You know that, don't you?"

Jon closed his eyes trying to veil the pain on his face. He wanted to be completely free to say those words to her. She swallowed once and she knew that she had to finish that psychological torture for Jon, so she plainly and straightforwardly answered thus:

"I'm facing an ultimatum here, Robb." She said seriously. She qualified it as an ultimatum even though Lord Stark hadn't specified a dreadful '_or else_' clause. "Lord Stark says that he needs the best that my mind can offer today. I've got one hour and a half to find a way to get a few of your men out of Winterfell so that they can reach the royal family and help them out, should they require help. And bring some help back here as well. Now, there's no time for breakfast… or chatting. So, if you'll excuse me," She said just about to descend the stairs back to her bedroom. "I need some alone-time to conjure up a miracle."

She left in a rush, not caring to see the flabbergasted look on their faces.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Two hours went by and Marian was already there, as promised. Lord Stark climbed the stairs and smiled warmly when he saw her, but she was staring out of the window when he did so.

Rambling in her own thoughts, one half of her was terrified that her plan might not work, the other half was childishly ashamed of a gift she still hadn't received. In fact, the mystery around that aforementioned present had kept her in a constant state of embarrassment whenever she came to remember Lord Stark's insistence. She couldn't even fathom what it could be, especially since she didn't covet anything of material value like land or riches. All she had ever wanted was health and knowledge. Therefore, what could Lord Stark offer her with such insistence?

"Apparently, my son Robb has decided to forget his manners to me, Miss Bluegin." Lord Stark greeted her in that unusual way.

"What's that supposed to mean, m'lord?" She feared to ask as she turned to face him.

"He came to my room an hour ago to complain to me about what I've done to you with such an unrivalled fierceness I had never thought he possessed." He replied smiling, as if he found it charming.

"I can't deny he's asked me what was the matter with me, since he's seen me worry."

"And I can't deny he's really into you, young lady."

She blushed and her eyes shied away out the window, where the snow was still reigning high and mighty.

"Has…" She hesitated, but she didn't want to bite her tongue anymore. "Has anyone else complained any further?" She asked hoping that Jon had also interfered for her.

"Actually, _yes_." Lord Stark replied warmly. "Robb's _wasn't_ the only complain today…" He made a crucial pause and giggled a bit, knowing that they were both referring to the same person. "But neither of them disheartened my will. I still need your help, like it or not."

"I spoke my mind out, but my purpose was never to dishearten you, m'lord. In fact, you shouldn't." She said with severity. "People's lives are in danger."

"Don't be so harsh." He tried to be more casual.

"I will whenever lives are at stake." She insisted.

"Very well, then." He sighed briefly. "What have you got for me?"

"Tell your men to start digging tunnels from the front door of the castle to the stables and the main gates of the city walls. Extend the circuit to other key areas and houses." She instructed while he stared at her with amazement. He loved it when she unveiled her ability to smarten out anyone else. "Tell them to put the snow into barrels and other similar containers and store them until the tunnels are complete. But as they advance, let them build long archways with wood. Once the daylight is out, the temperatures will automatically drop and the snow will become ice. The archways will then be stronger, and therefore safer. Until they melt."

"Then we will have a fully snow-clad city with 'underground' archways in which to move around. Like an ant colony. Interesting." He replied smiling broadly. He loved the idea.

"That was my original idea. If the ants can do it with the earth, why shouldn't we use the same principle with snow and ice?"

"What about once my men are outside the city walls?" He asked feeling nervous but thrilled.

"I would recommend that they _climb_ the city walls first, the horses too, and dump the snow taken from the digging outside before they leave." She went on seriously. "Then, I suggest that they check the snow's height, that they wear snowshoes and equip the horses with snowshoes too. Depending on the snow's height, they can either descend from the city walls or dig their way out from the main gates. We shall see that once they get to the gates. Once they're out, they should try not to ride the horses, but walk instead, and as carefully as possible, south of course, where the snow will be less dense. Hopefully, tomorrow the weather will be a bit gentler and will probably let them walk with ease, if they need more time than just one day. When they come back, it's possible that they can ride them. If not, they can still use them to carry goods or fuel, if necessary."

"In the meantime, we wait here." He said feeling at ease and completely convinced that her plan would work. "The archways will let us move around with ease. And later, the ice will then melt very slowly, since the weather forecast isn't very optimistic in the long run."

"The archways should last a while." She elaborated. "But should the weather improve, the ceiling should be taken care of in the first place. We definitely don't want anyone dying because of a massive ice-falling on their heads. Tell your men to get a hammer and a chisel each, and to proceed to destroy the archway when the sun starts shining again. The walls may be extracted bit by bit afterwards."

"Great! I really think we're saved!" He exclaimed truly relieved to have a plan which might lead to no casualties. "What would we ever do without you, young lady?" He asked that rhetorical question with warmth.

"You'd do just fine, m'lord." She mentally noted she had to use that treatment when she spoke to Lord Stark. She had forgotten to use it in the last few minutes because she had let herself get fully overwhelmed by the thrill of plan-devising and not beating about the bushes as she spoke about it.

"I knew I could trust you fully. You're beyond amazing, young lady."

At that, she blushed.

'If he was twenty years younger and unmarried, I'd honestly think he's considering getting married to me.' Marian thought with embarrassment.

"Lord Stark, honestly, such a special treatment doesn't make me comfortable… at all."

"Is that so?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "Miss Bluegin, it was _never_ meant to make you feel uneasy, but after everything that has happened recently, I highly doubt that you don't realise that you've become a vital part of the Winterfell society. What part of being loved and hailed makes you feel uncomfortable, pray?" He asked with pride, and he didn't wait for her to think of a reply: "It is an honour to have met you, young lady. That's why I wanted to give you a present."

"As regards this present of yours…" She insisted. "It's _me_ who owes you. You've given me a place to stay, and meals to eat, and knowledge from Maester Luwin, and…"

"And _good company_, perhaps?" He asked with a smirk.

She blushed a bit, again. She wondered at the diversity of ways in which Lord Stark was able to make indirect references to Jon – at least that was what _she_ thought –, and make her blush in the process. It was either Jon or Robb the one he was referring to.

"Then let's get this over with, shouldn't we?" She asked daringly, hoping he wouldn't be offended.

"What do you mean?"

"Your purposeful veil of mystery around the subject is killing me… _m'lord_!" She chid herself again because she almost missed the respectful treatment, _again_.

"Dying to know what's in the box, Miss Bluegin?" He chuckled freely.

"_Yes_!" She admitted not thinking twice about it, almost tempted to feel angry at his flawless benefactor.

"Very well, then. So be it." He said joyfully. "May I ask you something first, young lady? It's rather personal, I'm afraid."

"Of… of course, m'lord." The psychological torture was mildly obvious in her tone of voice, but Lord Stark was enjoying it fully and openly.

"I understand that you were born and raised in Qarth." He suddenly went on speaking with a suspiciously serious attitude. It fit him and his social position, but she was used to seeing him in a much amused, gentler look than that. "That your father is a doctor, currently ill, although his greatest misfortune might've been seeing you leave to a foreign country so that you had a chance to save him. But being a doctor, I assume he's rich and well positioned, am I right?"

"Yes, m'lord. He had good connections with successful tradesmen and the nobility in Qarth due to his job."

"Does he own a scrap of land?"

"He does, m'lord. Ten acres of very productive vineyards." She found the change of topic refreshing, it was calming her poor nerves, although she was clueless as regards his current intentions. "In addition, he owns a big three-storey house in the centre of the city and a local, very picturesque bodega – the _favourite_ amongst the foreign visitors, I must say, m'lord."

"What about your mother? I've never heard you talk about her."

"She died when I was born." She replied sadly. "I'm an only child. My father decided not to marry again. He hardly ever talks about her, so I don't know much about her really."

"I'm awfully sorry to hear this. My condolences." He replied sadly.

"Thank you, m'lord. But," She spoke naively. "may I ask why you inquire about this?"

"Well, bearing in mind your social position and…" He went on seriously but kindly again. "the fact that Winterfell as a whole has fallen in love with you, I was wondering whether you'd accept my present, that is,…"

'_Oh-oh_, there he goes.' She thought fearing the worst. 'He's going to offer me Robb's hand in marriage… I'm so royally _fucked up_ right now. I don't want to marry Robb! He's nice and everything, but… How am I going to get out of this one?!'

"… if you don't mind me speaking so straightforwardly to you about such private matters," Lord Stark went on at a self-conscious, torturous pace. "but, have you already got by any chance a suitor back home? If not, I may be able to make you a very interesting offer, young lady."

"I…" She tried to be economical with words and keep herself calm as much as possible. "No, I'm not engaged."

"May I dare to say that this is _highly surprising_, Miss Bluegin?" He asked her chuckling. "I assume that you're a heartbreaker. It's rather unlikely that no man has _ever_ offered you his hand until now."

"I received an offer once, a _long_ time ago." She said whispering with dejection, remembering Josua and his childish whim of marrying her. Lord Stark saw her attitude and assumed that there was no engagement. But then she regained her usual spunk as she shoved the thought of Josua aside and went on speaking: "And I assume my father might have received some, but he never speaks to me about this. My nanny was a _bit_ gossipy, and she said once she'd heard something about it on many occasions, but that my father was, and I quote, 'grouchy, but naturally ambitious'."

Lord Stark chuckled freely at that.

"Should I write to him instead of talking about it to you, young lady?" He asked with mirth. "Would he turn my offer down bearing in mind that I'm Lord of Winterfell and that he's 'naturally ambitious'?"

"I prefer to handle such things _myself, _m'lord." She replied a bit darkly but frankly, as if she had been bothered by his last two questions. She got paler and bit her lower lip only once and briefly.

"I thought as much. You're strong and independent. Now," He went on, then quite seriously. "I was wondering whether you'd consider Jon as a valid option as a husband."

"Jon?" She asked whispering, staring at his face in bewilderment and realising that Lord Stark was offering her the one and only choice she'd ever take in such matters. "For a second I'd thought you were only going to offer me Robb's hand…"

"I'm not blind, Miss Bluegin." He said rather fatherly. "I was young once, young lady. Correct me if I'm wrong, but both of you are crazy for each other, right?"

She blushed revealingly because it made her remember their last, brief but steamy encounter in the study room.

"As I suspected." He smiled at her. "He won't ever say a thing or try anything, since his social position is not the most desirable. You know what I mean… But I keep hearing wonderful stories from Maester Luwin about a foreign land where sluts and bastards don't have such a bleak social environment, where the sun bathes the earth with kindness, where young ladies are bold, clever and sassy." He said that staring intensely at her, smiling. "He _could_ fit in that society, if he found someone who'd take him there. Robb already knows he won't be able to have much of a choice as regards a wife. Let him have a bit of a heartbreak in his life before he settles down. It won't hurt him to have loved someone before getting married. Besides, as I have made it clear, he _still_ has a future ahead of him – whereas Jon has _none_ but going to the Wall, which is his last resort. Now that we're at it, I must admit I have never really liked that option. His only chance at enjoying life is _you_, young lady. Don't you think it's only fair that I should take this into serious consideration?"

"Yes, m'lord."

"I don't need to portray him to you. You've known each other long enough to know who and how he is. As regards his legacy, you may assume he's got _nothing_ to offer you but his unconditional love for you, but let me tell you, Miss Bluegin, that you're _wrong_." He said with great determination.

Silence. They were never-endingly staring at each other: Lord Stark with an unbeatable warm smile on his face; Marian with dumbstruck eyes and a raised eyebrow.

"I didn't hinted at anything of the sort, m'lord." She eventually admitted, her blood pressure pressing her to answer and defend her humility and honesty. "I'm not interested in getting my hands on money or property! And I've _never ever_ asked for anything which wasn't mine…"

"Relax, Miss Bluegin. For once in your life, _relax_. Because now my mysterious present suddenly appears before you:" He was proud to announce. "I've been writing letters back and forth with the king for the last few weeks and I've managed to convince him to knight him and to give me permission to award him some riches, as if he was a rightful son to me, so that you have some income to start a new life, both of you, on your beloved, foreign shores of Qarth." He waited a couple of seconds to let her process the new information. "I have his word. The king's coming to Winterfell with that and other purposes. He already knows about your good deeds, but when he knows that you're the responsible of this plan to save Winterfell and the royal family from dying in this awful wintry weather, he's going to be beyond _delighted_. What do you say about Jon, young lady? Will it be an _aye_ or a _nay_?"

She was gaping at him like she had never gaped at no other person in her entire life. Her cheeks blushed like two red roses in full bloom. Seeing that the words had died in her delicate mouth, he chuckled and finally broke the silence.

"I should gather my men and tell them the plan and how to proceed." He concluded happily. "And you, Miss Bluegin, gather your wits and let me know what you think as soon as possible."

"W-why…" She stammered a bit. "W-why _every… single… conversation_ that I have with _you_, Lord Stark,… is aimed to _push_ me beyond my usual spunk?" She finally asked naively.

"I'm sure that you'll leave the future generations equally dumbstruck when you grow older, like me." He replied with half a naughty smile. "In the meantime, have you got an answer for me instead of a question?"

"Aye." She smiled coyly. "Let it be a _yes_."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Marian's plan progressed as expected. Lord Stark's men successfully built archways in the way an ant colony would and they managed to get out of the city walls to go and find the royal family on their way south. Fortunately, nothing bad had happened to them apart from feeling a bit cold and bored when Lord Stark's men found them.

"A letter for the king, my liege." One of the men told Jaime Lannister when they found him outside a local, forgotten inn which happened to be nearby when they got stuck due to the snow. The royal family was inside, trying to tolerate each other.

"Who's it from?" Jaime asked him with some exhaustion.

"Lord Stark, my liege."

Jaime smiled with naught, although he felt relieved that Lord Stark's men had found them. Cersei had started growing impatient, which eventually meant that she was bossing around too much due to boredom and her unbendable personality. The king had started to grow weary of her – they were not used to sharing that much time together. And, of course, Jaime was used to spending some more alone time with his twin sister, which had been drastically cut due to the snow on the road.

"Lord Stark bids us to help you lead the way to Winterfell with no further delay, my liege."

"Very well, soldier. I'll notify the king at once. You may rest in the meantime."

While the men sat down next to a bonfire they had lit outside the inn, to have a chat and rest, a ginger, strangely-clothed woman smirked at Jaime as he went walking past her. She was taking care of the horses and, despite her manly, yet foreign attire, it was obvious that she was a woman. Jaime paid no heed to her, like the rest of the king's guards and soldiers, even though she was a striking beauty. Some of them didn't even dare to look in her direction or talk to her, fearing to make eye contact with her, as if she were a menace of some mysterious sort.

'We'll be there soon.' The woman thought with naught. 'And then, we'll see who laughs the last.'

Her deviant, red-lipped smile looked like a giant scar on the pale skin of her face.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In the meantime, Lord Stark had summoned Jon in his chambers. The last time that Jon had been there was to complain about his ultimatum on Marian a few hours ago; on the penultimate time, though, they had planned his departure to the Wall to join the Night's Watch, but that had been a long time ago. Lord Stark smiled at himself while he waited for Jon to come and wondered at the interesting turn of events.

'Who would've thought that such a wonderful creature like Marian would ever come this far north and bewitch a man in such a way?' Lord Stark pondered on that and other ideas, all of them revolving around the same subject. 'It'll finally turn out right for him. I'm glad.'

Interrupting his rambling thoughts, a firm knock on his door broke the silence of the room and then Jon's voice flooded the air with his usual seriousness and formality:

"Lord Stark, it's me Jon. May I come in?"

"You may." Lord Stark replied fatherly.

As Jon swiftly opened and closed the door, Lord Stark went on speaking, as if he had no time to waste and yet he was relishing in what he was about to tell him, so much so that he found himself wishing he could lengthen it as much as possible. It would be a memorable chat.

"Jon, I have news for you. Please, have a seat."

Jon raised an eyebrow at him. Lord Stark had never let him sit whenever he needed to tell him something, regardless of its nature. But when he _did_ sit down in front of the elder man, he started to fear there was something completely wrong about that. He started to fear there were dreadful news ahead – and then a pang in his heart made him stop and think about Marian, who had said she'd leave soon, although she had never specified _when_ exactly. It couldn't be about the ultimatum, since he had heard of Marian's plan and helped to carry it out by taking out barrels and barrels of snow while building the archways. Lord Stark couldn't help but bragging about it with a wide smile and warm remarks about her all the time.

'Then it must be her departure.' Jon though feeling an unrivalled sadness. 'This is it. I've lost her. She doesn't dare to lay the news on me herself and has begged Lord Stark to do it.'

"Jon," Lord Stark went on seriously. "I'm not sure whether I've ever told you that I'd manage to make your life easier around here or not. Have I?"

"I'm not sure if you used exactly those words, my lord, but the idea behind your actions was implied in that direction."

"Fair enough. Have you thought about the Wall recently?"

"Aye, my lord. I was getting ready." Jon replied seriously.

"Good, good. Just one thing, though:" Lord Stark spoke more nonchalantly than usual. "forget about it."

"What?!" Jon asked dumbfounded.

"I said: forget about it." Lord Stark repeated.

"B-but why?! What will I do?!"

"I've had a much better idea. Let me be straightforward with you. I don't want to beat about the bushes and neither should you, young man. What would you say if I opened the door which would let you live a normal life for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that the king and I have been writing letters back and forth discussing your future and other matters, and it has turned out good for you. I have convinced the king to knight you, so that I may be allowed to openly consider you my lawful son, which enables me to offer you a much better future than joining the Night's Watch. What do you say? Would you like that?"

Jon was dumbstruck.

"My wife won't be happy about it, I'm sure, but never mind." He chuckled amused. "The king is coming soon, thanks to a great master plan of a great young lady. Once the royal family arrives, I have to deal some other matters with the king in private, but your knighthood is guaranteed to take place soon after that, probably on the next day. Anyway, I don't want to rush things, Jon, but…"

"Yes, I'd be honoured! I'm…!" Jon found it hard to find not only the proper words, but also words in general. He was speechless.

"Keep calm, Jon. I'm not finished here." Lord Stark said with a naughty smile then. "A normal life means some money or properties, but let's get down to business, shall we? A normal life means… getting married… a wife, you know, and children."

Jon's eyes glowed like never before. He gaped at Lord Stark as if he was having the best dream of his life and never wanted to wake up ever again.

"Jon, I've got only one single word for you now…" Lord Stark added.

Jon felt the palms of his hands getting sweaty.

"… and as soon as I've said it," Lord Stark went on. "I guess I'll know the answer automatically – because, honestly, Jon, you're an open book, young man."

Jon's heart was dying already due to the high expectations he was developing. And then Lord Stark opened his mouth and delivered the sentence that would define Jon's life once and for all:

"_Marian_…" Lord Stark whispered with joy.

Silence fell, but if Jon's blush could be measured in decibels, it would rank as the loudest noise in the kingdom. And Lord Stark was greatly satisfied with the result.

"I thought as much." Lord Stark whispered at Jon with a warm smile on his face.

Jon bit his lower lip and delivered only one question, the one and only that he could think of at the time:

"Does she know?"

"Does the answer really matter, Jon?" Lord Stark pointed out quite cleverly. "I may have intervened, but you'll have to speak to her sooner or later. I can't do that for you, Jon. Be brave."

Lord Stark smiled one of those '_I know a lot more than you know_' smiles of his and dismissed him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Jon was due to dig more snow and put it into barrels, but once he was out of Lord Stark's room, he couldn't help but rushing down the stairs and along the corridors until he found Marian. In the same way that his feet were stampeding all the way, bumping into people and smashing doors open, the blood in his veins was cascading with the fierceness of the highest of waterfalls.

However, she was nowhere to be found within the castle walls. He even dared to open her bedroom door by force once his knocking didn't receive any answer. Since the archways had been dug almost completely, he assumed she was in the study room, as usual. Why should she bother to change her routine because of the weather?

He smiled at himself as he ran along the snow archways, held from time to time by wooden beams and arches. They were quite dark, because the snow was thick and no torches were allowed for security reasons. Once he reached the door of the study room, he froze.

All of a sudden, he knew he wanted to see her, desperately, but he had no idea what to tell her. His palms started to sweat before he could even knock, although the door was not fully closed.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A soft knocking was heard on the door of the study room, delicate yet decisive like a bow loaded with doubts instead of arrows, the fine string of which was richly tense with the anticipation of catching its prey.

"Come in!" Marian sang joyfully, unsuspecting, unaware of who would actually come in – and the words that would be laid on her.

The door opened shyly, slowly, and Arya came in wearing a mask of embarrassment and hesitation. Marian feared something horribly wrong was the matter with her, since she had never ever seen her in such a state.

"Arya, sweet child," Marian told her with worry when she saw her face. "come here. What's wrong?"

The poor child rushed to Marian, started to weep silently and then she hugged her as if she could find no solace in the world.

"I can't take it anymore! I'm _dying_!" Arya exclaimed.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary**: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC

**Disclaimer**: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Previously…**

A soft knocking was heard on the door of the study room, delicate yet decisive like a bow loaded with doubts instead of arrows, the fine string of which was richly tense with the anticipation of catching its prey.

"Come in!" Marian sang joyfully, unsuspecting, unaware of who would actually come in – and the words that would be laid on her.

The door opened shyly, slowly, and Arya came in wearing a mask of embarrassment and hesitation. Marian feared something horribly wrong was the matter with her, since she had never ever seen her in such a state.

"Arya, sweet child," Marian told her with worry when she saw her face. "come here. What's wrong?"

The poor child rushed to Marian, started to weep silently and then she hugged her as if she could find no solace in the world.

"I can't take it anymore! I'm _dying_!" Arya exclaimed.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 8: The dinner party**

The flames in Arya's heart were burning her from the inside. Her sobs wildly broke out and she was unable to speak for a long time. Her hair was mildly dishevelled, so much so that her braid looked odd and wild. In the meantime, Marian found no way she could soothe her. Young as Arya was, she was breaking down as if it was the end of her life – and Marian doubted that Arya had any valid reasons to find herself so desperate, bearing in mind her home and upbringing. But perhaps she was wrong: maybe there was something really wrong in spite of her well-off life.

"Arya," Marian spoke to her with a warm, motherly voice. "try to breathe in and out, very deeply, and very slowly… One thing at a time, darling."

Arya did as told. A few minutes later, she was breathing normally, but she was still feeling nervous and uneasy to let Marian go. Arya loved her smell, the only comforting token that she could take in.

"Now, tell me what's wrong. If you don't tell me, I can't help you." Marian whispered to Arya.

"It's… It's _you_, Marian." Arya acknowledged feeling ashamed to voice her thoughts.

"Me?! Dear Old Gods, what did I ever do to _bother_ you so much?!" Marian asked with worry and amazement.

"You said you wanted to leave soon. I've heard it from father!" Arya told her hopelessly as she stared directly at her eyes.

"Oh, _that_." Marian seemed to admit. "I never said I'd stay here forever, Arya. Do you remember I have to come back to Qarth? You already knew it from the start, young lady."

"Yes, I know, but…"

"No buts. I came here with a specific purpose and I'm almost finished. I need to come back." Marian said quite seriously.

"Yes, I know, but…" Arya was too desperate. "I _really_ like you. Everybody does! I was hoping that… that you…you…" She sighed and seemed to give in. "_When_ are you leaving?" Arya eventually asked.

"You had developed high expectations on me, huh?" Marian asked her with a warm smile on her face. She couldn't be angry at Arya. "In a few days, I guess. All this snow will delay my departure, that's for sure."

"I know it's _my_ fault!" Arya shouted with guilt.

"What is your fault? You couldn't actually make it snow that hard, could you? Do you master the weather perhaps?" Marian asked feeling funny, but since Arya was not willing to make merry, Marian stopped. "Fair enough. _What_ is your fault? I don't get it."

"That day… when I was spying Jon and you in that wardrobe…" She was dying to confess her sin. "I just… I didn't mean to… to…"

Arya was finding it hard to find the proper words.

"Wait a second: you say you're feeling guilty for spying on us and… '_interrupting_' us?!" Marian wasn't sure about what words to use either, and she blushed as she spoke. When Arya nodded with vehemence, a lonely tear ran down her right cheek and then Marian sighed loudly and proceeded thus: "No, Arya, don't blame yourself for that. It was…"

"Jon had never been so _angry_ at me. Ever." Arya said with a dark voice, as if she hated herself. "I'm so _so_ sorry…"

"Have you had the chance to talk to him at least?" Marian asked warmly.

"No." Arya's eyes were full of panic and she spoke in a rush. "No. No. No. I can't. I can't. I just _can't._"

"Why? Do you _fear_ him?"

Arya nodded shyly and then Marian chuckled.

"Arya, sweet child, you can't honestly tell me that you _fear_ him. He _loves_ you, you know that. He would never possibly want to harm you or…"

"If I hadn't spied on you that day, you'd probably be with child now." Arya admitted feeling guilty. "And you wouldn't leave."

Marian blushed wildly.

"Oh, stop it, will you?" Marian rushed to say. "Stop speaking like that, please. You're obsessed about…" But then Marian decided to change the path of their conversation a little: "Now, Arya, listen to me: you're _not_ to blame for my departure, you're _not_ to blame for spying on us, and you're… you're a sweet, _innocent_ child. Jon was mad at you for a few minutes, but that was all. He _can't _be mad at _you_ for long. No one can, really. You didn't do anything wrong. So stop crying, please – _you're breaking my heart_."

At that, Arya started drying her eyes using the sleeves of her blouse.

"Do you miss your father, Marian?" Arya finally asked her with some curiosity.

"A lot, actually." Marian replied whispering as she got a tissue for Arya and helped her to wipe her nose. "Do you know he's ill?"

"Oh, really?" Arya asked her with worry. Her eyes glowed as if she still got some more tears to shed. "I didn't know that. Father never told me. Is that why you want to leave as soon as possible?"

"Yes, Arya."

"Have you sent him a raven to tell him you're coming back, that you've found the cure you were looking for?" Arya asked feeling a bit more like her old self again.

"No, I haven't." Marian admitted quite sadly.

"He'd love to hear the news, I guess."

"I guess so." Marian replied copying Arya's words and adding a fake smile.

"Promise me you'll come back, Marian!" Arya suddenly yelled. "Please, please, please! Promise me! You _have_ to!" She insisted grabbing the sleeves of Marian's dress.

"I may, but I can't promise you that."

"That's so unfair!" Arya broke out frustrated. "You grown-ups are so… so…"

"'_Unfair'_ seems a valid option to me." Marian admitted with a faint smile on her lips.

"I will hate you _forever_ if you don't come back!" Arya shot at Marian raising a forefinger at her threateningly.

"Forever is a _long_ time, little miss." Marian replied with a smile.

"Very well, but you know what I mean!"

"I love you too." Marian said with warmth.

Marian chuckled while Arya made her way back to the castle, leaving the door ajar and running along the archways, unaware that Jon had been spying on them all along from behind the door of the study room. When she came out, she couldn't see him because he was hiding right behind the door. Besides feeling guilty for spying, Jon was too amazed due to that intimate conversation between Marian and Arya to care about his guilt.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A few hours later (and earlier than expected), the royal family arrived with all the expected pomposity and excitement. As the main gates opened and they came in, Lord Stark was proud to know they were not far from Winterfell and well taken care of in a nearby inn, so his men didn't actually have a lot of hard work to bring them there. Apart from the excess of snow, there wasn't much to complain about on their behalf – and he was sure that the awful weather conditions would rule over any other topic of conversation with the royal family, unaccustomed as they were to such a bleak weather.

Lord Stark smiled when he saw King Robert dismount from his horse in front of his castle. He didn't want to share the last few miles in the company of his wife inside that carriage – and it didn't surprise Lord Stark. He was used to seeing such behaviour on their behalf. Their marriage was convenient and, therefore, good.

Fortunately, the area from the main gate to the patio in front of the castle had been cleared of snow in due time, as Lord Stark had commanded – and _not fully_ following Marian's advice. The archways were handy and just fine to let people and servants move around the place, but they seemed unfit to receive the king and the royal family. Therefore, Lord Stark had ordered the men to make an extra effort to clear the area of snow.

As the Stark family displayed his own pomposity in front of the royals by standing in line before them, other members of the house and the servants kept a low profile, as it was expected of them. Marian was told to be present, but at the back, like Jon Snow. They were both standing at the back, like the servants, and they bowed when the king happened to acknowledge their presence with a simple nod. In spite of that, Marian had overheard by accident how Lady Stark had commanded a servant to tell Jon not to attend the meals like he was used to. It would bring shame on them if the royals knew the Starks let a bastard sit and eat on the same table, as if he could be treated with equal rights. However, Marian was allowed to proceed as usual, since her social status was completely different. Jon didn't take that different treatment badly, since he was used to it and he couldn't blame Marian for it, although he felt blue, as usual. Being shut out of major social events had hurt him ever since he was little, but soon there would be no more pain: he could only think of his prospects of marrying Marian – and that sated and soothed him.

He was really looking forward to speaking to Marian alone, since his last attempt had been foiled by Arya, although it was an unfortunate accident which had shed light onto the most delicate issue in Marian's life: his father's illness and, therefore, her imminent departure.

He remembered how sad her voice had echoed from her delightful lips, unaware that Jon was drinking from it. But the heartbreak in her voice could only be rivalled by the heartbreak in Jon's chest, because somehow he suspected that her number-one priority was her father – and Jon himself would always come second. He chid himself for being a jealous jerk: it was only obvious that she'd care a lot for her father; nonetheless, he hoped that his engagement proposal wasn't considered a downside in her current, hectic, final-countdown kind of life.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Some minutes after the reception, Jon decided to get some fresh air. He couldn't take part in the events that would follow anyway. Besides, he was only allowed to attend his own knighting – and Lord Stark insisted that he'd send for him in due time, that he should be patient. That was why he started to aimlessly walk towards the old, red-leaved, sacred oak tree. The snow wasn't that thick and dangerous over there, as if the area around the tree was too sacred for the snow to cover it completely. Ghost escorted him in the distance, as he usually did.

His mind had been busy burning itself with incendiary thoughts of Marian. He had hoped he could manage to speak with her alone and openly ask her whether he'd make him the happiest man that ever lived – of course, _before_ the arrival of the royal family. Otherwise, the duties that would follow would make her to be needed everywhere, and prevent him from being around all the _bloody_ time – which was what eventually happened. Therefore, the knighting ceremony and the public acknowledgement that he would be considered as a lawful son from then on would take place _before_ he could actually have a private moment with her.

The old red-leaved oak tree reigned supreme in that desert, wintry land. The striking combination of wild red and pure white felt sinfully beautiful, yet overwhelming and ominous. The red leaves felt redder than usual, some shades darker even, but vividly hurting, as if they were hot blood shed on the snow.

In spite of that, that was a very spiritual place which he cherished and he had always felt safe there. He went on pondering on stuff… He blushed wildly when he envisioned her lovely eyes on him when he'd be the leading star of that fated public event, his knighting ceremony – and he wondered whether Lord Stark would dare to make his engagement plans public right _there_ and _then_.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A few hours later, dinner was served in the dinner room, which had been bountifully redecorated for the occasion: there were dark red tablecloths and curtains; golden ribbons and strings on the curtains; wild, blue and purple flowers in large vases; Large, thick candles shone gracefully in every wall of that huge room; and soft, relaxing music was being played in the background. The royal family seemed to have forgotten all about the snow and were making merry, like anyone else.

Robb and Sansa had somehow become the centre of attention in the main table, where the royals and Lord and Lady Stark were seated. They peeped in a very obvious way towards both young adults, as if they were making plans on their behalf. Marian immediately thought that they were discussing their marriages, which besides being obvious it was necessary, since none of them had made any move to acknowledge they were interested in any potential suitor. In spite of that, Sansa was no fool – that was why she started to fret, but in a positive sense, so much so that she even started to glance at Joffrey, the young, high and mighty prince, every now and then, who by the way returned every single glance at her with a cocky smile on his face. The background music seemed to intoxicate the moment.

And suspicious as it was, Robb was glancing at Marian every now and then. The candlelight made his face more attractive than he was – or was it the wine in her veins? She had found his fixation odd but not surprising, because she knew he held her dear but she thought it was strange since Lord Stark had offered her Jon's hand, not Robb's – and she had assumed that Robb would soon be told about it. At least he _should_ know. He should've been told already. However, he seemed oblivious about the matter, as if he _didn't_ know yet – but _she_ would _not_ tell him.

She had enough on her plate already: she needed to talk to Jon as soon as possible as regards her departure and her love for him. She had nothing to fear because she knew she wouldn't be rejected, and yet she shivered at the mere thought of being alone with Jon and openly admitting how she felt for him. Would he react in the same way like that evening after the wildling attack in the study room when Arya had been spying on them? Half nude, predatory, reckless, hot, … She immediately blushed wildly, and Robb might've taken the wrong conclusions because he was smiling openly and freely at her exactly when she blushed. Next, he pretended not to have noticed by playing with the round, soft edge of his glassy cup of red wine. Then, as he took a slow, gentle sip of it, he spied Marian from the corner of his eyes. The soft music seemed to play a bit more loudly and daringly.

The dinner party was getting longer than normal – which could be expected due to the presence of the royal family. It was common knowledge that the king liked to party. He drank wine profusely and without measure, but that didn't bother anyone in particular except his wife, who seemed bored like hell at the moment. Talking to Lady Stark had let to a mild sense of accomplishment of her duties as queen of Westeros, but it didn't fulfil her.

In the meantime, Marian was getting extremely uneasy. Arya, her only talkative companion, started misbehaving and threw a spoonful of chopped vegetables at her sister while Joffrey was looking – and, therefore, she was sent to bed early. Robb had to take her away from the dinner room by force while she was having a tantrum. Sansa was solely focusing on her target, that is, prince Joffrey. The female servants never dared to speak to her because they thought Marian should be treated like a noble lady and they went on with their respective jobs, serving food or wine, and so on so forth. Other ladies of the court were far too old or too young. And the men and the boys from the Stark family and Theon were not meant to talk to the ladies in public, except if they wanted to make a compliment – but never to chat for some time. That could be construed as a behaviour with _intentions_. On top of that, Jon could not even be present. _If only he could_! She envisioned that impossible chance in her mind's eye, of him being seated in his usual spot – and she knew she would slowly melt like the defeated, hot wax tears streaming down those thick candles on the tables and hanging on the walls. Therefore, Marian felt incredibly alone and miserable.

If only she could think of an excuse to make herself scarce! The music felt great in her ears, flowing in and vibrating in her veins; but she couldn't help feeling distracted by it. She started playing with her sea shell necklace while trying to come up with something, but she could only make her uneasiness obvious to Robb by shying her gaze away from him whenever he chanced to look at her. At long last, he chuckled and raised from the table to come near her and sit on Arya's empty seat, right beside her.

"Having a hard time, Marian?" Robb asked her whispering rather playfully, trying not to be noticed by his elders. Luckily for him, the king was making a show due to the high level of alcohol in his veins, which worked as a distraction.

"Just bored." Marian replied also whispering, trying to sound as formal as possible, but his closeness was almost unbearable. "I'd rather be elsewhere, I'm afraid. Please, don't take it badly."

"I wouldn't. Besides, I'd love to get out of here, too. So I'm far from offended." Robb admitted.

"The king's drunken behaviour seems a valid good reason to me to feel offended." Marian pointed out, being accidentally funny and making Robb chuckle.

"His dancing style is… let's say, _unique_." He pointed out, also trying to be funny.

"It sure is." She whispered trying to sound bored. Or boring. She didn't care which as long as Robb lost interest in her, a keen interest which she didn't want to spur any longer and which was making her extremely guilty. "I might as well leave now and invent an excuse later or something."

"Please, _don't_… Marian." He replied all of a sudden, feeling nervous. "I…"

"Got a lot to do tomorrow morning, Robb. I should get going." She insisted kindly, but seriously.

He eventually sighed and gave in.

"Let me escort you to your room, then." He said defeated.

"That won't be necessary, but thank you nonetheless." She tried to sound distant and formal. She didn't want Robb to think that she was inviting him to get '_closer'_ to her.

"Theon has drunk far too much wine and he's got a personal vendetta against you – and I _know_ the reason why, Marian." He said seriously, looking meanly at Theon in the meantime. "I'm not leaving you alone tonight."

"You must be kidding me!" She exclaimed trying to contain her amazement and her volume of voice.

"I'm not."

"You know what I did?!" She asked stupefied. "_Oh, dear Old Gods_…"

"Yes, I do. Jon told me." He said casually.

"_Jon_?!" Marian couldn't help but hoping that Jon might've _only_ told him the part in which she defended herself from Theon, but duly _omitted_ the part in which she danced so daringly and was left alone in a room with Jon so that they could… And then she blushed.

"Since he's not allowed to dine with us, I might as well fill in his role to protect you from Theon." He went on quite seriously. "Let me escort you, please."

"Fair enough." She said giving in. "But we should leave the room at different times. I don't want anybody to think… _stuff_. I'll wait for you in the corridor." She added, blushing a bit more.

"OK, I get it." He said with a smile.

Having said that, she raised from the table and left the dinner room. Two minutes later, Robb did the same. Only Theon suspected there was something going on.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Once Robb and Marian met again in the corridor outside the dinner room, they started chatting about typical, casual topics until Robb asked her about her imminent departure right before reaching the door of her bedroom. Everyone kept asking her the same questions over and over, and therefore she was mildly pissed off by that, but she replied as politely as she could.

He felt her politeness heart-warming – and she could sense it by the way he was staring at her: so intensely, so fondly, so… She just excused herself as if begging to be dismissed already, wished him good night in a rush; and, as soon as she had opened her bedroom's door and turned her back towards him, she hoped he would get the message and make himself scarce – and he did.

He left as joyfully as ever, never feeling the need to impose himself on her or steal a kiss from her. It was as if he knew he had plenty of time to win her love. Marian softly bit her lower lip and wished Robb would be told the truth as soon as possible.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

When Robb went down the stairs to come back to the dinner party, he chanced to see Jon in the main patio outside, petting Ghost as if he was killing some time. Both of them had some snowflakes on their hair. Robb decided to go and check on Jon before returning to the party.

"How's it going, Jon?" Robb asked casually.

"Fine." Jon answered drily. He was in no mood for conversation.

"Theon's been drinking too much, like the king, I'm afraid. He was looking meanly at Marian, who's now in her bedroom, safe and sound, just so you know."

Between the lines, much could be understood: Robb's love for her and his concern that Jon might love her more than he ought to. At that, Jon smiled at the void, as if he didn't mind.

"And why are you telling me that?" Jon asked almost whispering. His pride had been wounded before, but never by Robb, so he couldn't bring himself to hate him even though Robb was acting defensively. On top of that, Robb didn't know about Lord Stark's plan. It was obvious to Jon at that moment.

"You're supposed to protect her, right? I thought you should know Theon hasn't forgotten about her."

"I know."

Jon was wondering whether to tell Robb about his new future or not, and Robb could feel the hesitation growing inside him.

"You look nervous. What's the matter?" Robb asked hoping that Jon would admit his feelings.

"I don't know if I should tell you this, but…"

"Tell me what?" Robb really felt Jon was coming clean.

"I'm not going to join the Night's Watch, Robb. Father has new plans for me." Jon finally admitted. He thought he'd work around the subject and let him know about their engagement at the very end.

"What?!" Robb asked astonished.

His flabbergasted voice reached out to a couple of naughty ears who happened to be nearby: that fearful, ginger woman who served the king, whom the men feared so much. She lurked in the shadows, unseen, until she was close enough to Robb and Jon to spy on them and overhear their conversation.

"I assume father hasn't told you anything about it." Jon whispered seriously. "Well, the thing is, he's been writing letters with the king lately. Apparently the king has agreed to knight me."

The female spy was enjoying their conversation very much, apparently. The topic seemed to interest her a great deal.

"Wow…" Robb was at a loss of words. "Really?"

"Which means I'll be recognised as a lawful son. But it won't interfere with you birth rights, so you don't have to worry." Jon swiftly added, just in case.

"Then why aren't you inside, dining with us?"

"Lady Stark doesn't know that _yet_…" Jon replied clenching his teeth a bit.

"Oh, I get it."

"Anyway, the thing is that father has thought of a different path for me. I'll be able to lead a normal life, if everything falls into plan."

"I think congratulations are in order, _brother!"_ Robb joyfully added while he extended a hand to him.

They hugged and Robb patted Jon's back a little. They chuckled, but Jon's smile died the second he knew he had to lay the news on him.

"I'm also…" Jon hesitated, then he closed his eyes gently and spoke again with a mild sensation of dread: "I'm also getting engaged."

"Wow… _again_." Robb chuckled. "Who's the fortunate young lady?" He asked never fearing Jon's answer. For some reason he thought that Marian would always be out of Jon's reach.

"Well, she's… _Marian_." Jon answered seriously.

Robb couldn't believe his ears and his smile died all of a sudden.

'_Good_. It's time.' The red-headed mystery woman thought with a smirk on her shadowed face.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A few minutes later, the threatening, ginger woman made her way into the castle unseen. She went to the first floor and knocked on Marian's door. The doctor's apprentice wasn't asleep. She had just been reading before going to bed in her favourite baby blue sleeping gown. Her lush dark curls carelessly hung on her shoulders, but they looked great anyway.

"Who's there?" Marian asked, fearing it was Theon. Luckily, she had locked the door and put a chair to block it.

"I'm a dutiful servant of the king." The woman replied seriously and faking female concern for a working woman like herself. "I need to speak to you, young lady. It is an urgent matter, I'm afraid."

"What is it?" Marian asked, getting near the door.

"Open up, please. It's a quite private matter." The woman insisted, as if her life depended on it, with nervousness. "I wouldn't like to deal with it through a closed door."

"I'm sorry, I'm not used to having strangers knocking on my bedroom door so late at night." Marian said while opening the door, getting worried due to the other lady's tone of voice. "Is there any medical emergency?"

"There is an emergency, yes, but it's not medical." The woman said frowning while Marian was taking a good look at her: she seemed a middle-aged woman, with nice ginger hair, and a frantic yet honest face. Her manly attire didn't quite fit her womanly concerned voice. "I'm so sorry, young lady."

"An emergency that's not medical? What are you sorry about?" Marian asked naively.

"I've got bad news to lay on you, young lady." The woman replied sternly. "I know you have no reason to trust me… You don't know me at all, but… Oh, dear Old Gods! I overheard… that… the king…" She hesitated and was having a hard time to let the words out of her mouth. "You need to know that…"

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone that you're telling me this. You can trust me." Marian said trying to empathise with that unknown woman.

For a second, Marian even thought that the king had raped her or something, or that she was with child and didn't want it, begging her to do something about it. Then again, she had said she had bad news for _her_. And they were not medically relevant. And right when Marian thought none of her deductions could fit in that particular situation, the woman revealed her current source of distress:

"_The king wants to have you killed_!"

Marian gaped at her, unable to respond to that threat.

"It's true, young lady? Please! You have to believe me!" The woman insisted.

"Are you sure?! You might've got the _wrong_ person…" Marian replied in mildly restrained panic.

"Are you Marian Bluegin, from Qarth?" The woman asked.

"Yes, I am." Marian admitted.

"_Then you'll die tomorrow_."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary**: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC

**Disclaimer**: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Previously…**

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone that you're telling me this. You can trust me." Marian said trying to empathise with that unknown woman.

For a second, Marian even thought that the king had raped her or something, or that she was with child and didn't want it, begging her to do something about it. Then again, she had said she had bad news for _her_. And they were not medically relevant. And right when Marian thought none of her deductions could fit in that particular situation, the woman revealed her current source of distress:

"_The king wants to have you killed_!"

Marian gaped at her, unable to respond to that threat.

"It's true, young lady? Please! You have to believe me!" The woman insisted.

"Are you sure?! You might've got the _wrong_ person…" Marian replied in mildly restrained panic.

"Are you Marian Bluegin, from Qarth?" The woman asked.

"Yes, I am." Marian admitted.

"_Then you'll die tomorrow_."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 9: The ring**

The stables were mostly dark except for a lonely candle lit in a corner. A shaky shadow moved back and forth in a hurry and full of uneasiness.

'Arya will hate me forever…' Marian though hopelessly while she prepared her horse to flee from Winterfell.

She had already packed her stuff in a couple of bags: some clothes, some food, her precious white flowers and her medicine note books. She was in the stables putting her bags on her horse and preparing it to ride on the snow – or the ice, rather. It was pitch dark outside and the temperatures had logically dropped several degrees below the freezing threshold. It would be a rough ride.

But she had to flee. She had no other choice. Right after a brief but insightful conversation with that mysterious, ginger-haired woman, Marian had decided to run away, following that woman's suggestion. And even though she preferred to have a logic approach to everything, she found herself unable to contain her panic. She'd get killed if she decided to stay, not to mention that Jon's well-being would also be in danger. That was why she had decided not to say a word, to leave no note for him, even though it was cruel.

'If only I could speak with Jon once more…' She went on thinking, feeling inconsolably miserable. 'Although I have no idea what I should tell him if I did. He could get killed too if he knew. I shouldn't let him know anything of what I've been told tonight. I would expose him. It's far too dangerous!'

"Marian!" Jon's voice suddenly roared in the night's air towards her, unable to hide his amazement. "What are you doing?!"

His dishevelled curls and heaving chest gave away his amazement and distress. Marian didn't find any words as an answer. She had never expected she'd meet him that night – in fact she even _hoped_ so. She hated nasty farewells to the core, especially because his glowing, beautiful eyes were desperately hanging onto hers, hoping that would only be a nightmare and that he'd wake up soon. However, his clenched fists and tense pose denoted anger, piling up more and more as the seconds passed by and she didn't dare to say a word.

"I chanced to look out the window before going to bed," Good Old Gods, he was really pissed off: his voice was imposing and hurt. His dishevelled hair looked delightfully distracting, though. "I've seen the light of a candle in the stables and I wondered who the hell was roaming in there so late at night… and it's _you_?! Are you… are you leaving _without_ saying goodbye?!" He asked losing his temper as he came a bit closer to her.

"Jon…" She began whispering rather apologetically.

"What the hell's going on, Marian?!" He yelled back at her.

"Jon, I'm leaving." Marian replied sadly, fearing the dejected look in his eyes but staring at him nonetheless. "Without saying goodbye. _Yes_. Now, listen to me very carefully," She went on in a rush to prevent him from talking or yelling at her any further, lest he should reveal their current position to unwanted witnesses. If she wanted them to survive, no one should know where they were at the moment. She went on softly, coming closer to him: "because this is of the utmost importance: besides my father's illness, I have another reason to leave so soon and so unexpectedly, but I'm afraid I can't tell you much about it." Her voice distilled her high level of distress and fear, at which Jon frowned with worry. Something was _really_ wrong because he knew she didn't take threats lightly. But she went on and he didn't interrupt her: "The _only_ thing that I'm allowed to tell you is that there is a _huge_ power game going on at the moment and that it's best for me that I stay out of it – not to mention that I should _never_ come back again around here."

"_Never coming back_?! What are you talking about?!" He didn't get it, obviously, because she was successfully keeping a veil on the truth.

"I have to leave at once… even though I couldn't care less about that _stupid_ power game. But that's _not_ what frightens me the most." She admitted staring deeply into his eyes, silently begging him to understand. "What I fear the most is losing _you_."

Silence.

Unbearable silence and cold. Luckily she was already wearing a thick, blue cloak over her shoulders, while Jon didn't have the time to wear something thicker than his usual, dark, indoors clothes before rushing to the stables that wintry night.

"Tomorrow… _you_ shall be knighted." She made a deliberate pause, swallowed hard and got ready to pronounce the most awful words of her entire life: "And if I stay here, tomorrow… _I_ shall be executed. I can't tell you more about it, but that's why I'm fleeing. Lord Stark won't keep his word as regards… _well, you know_. You… and me." She blushed because she didn't dare to portray a potential love relationship with him which was obvious that I would never happen.

"You can't be serious…" He whispered back at her with worry and amazement. "Tell me what's going on. I need to know!"

"If I tell you, then _you_'ll be in danger too." She swiftly added reaffirming every single word with the unbeatable might of seriousness. "They'll believe that you have an _alliance_ with me or something like that. That's why tomorrow, when (_not if_) they make questions to _you_ about _me_ – because _they will_, believe me –, you have to _deny_ me, deny that you have had _anything_ to do with me – and for the Old God's sake, make it _amazingly genuine_! Lie your heart out the best way you can because your life will be at stake, Jon. Otherwise, the sword which will be used to _knight_ you will also be used to _behead_ you."

"I won't do that." Jon insisted with pride and a harsh frown. "If they think you're a menace of some sort, they're wrong! I know you: you're a good person. One of the best, good-willed people that will ever exist in this world! Tell me what's going on, Marian?! Please! Don't shun me out!" He cried suddenly holding both her arms.

The volume of his voice reached a couple of ears who accidentally felt curious about what was going on in the stables: Tyrion Lannister had been reading books past bedtime in his room and had found them not as interesting as those alarming voices.

"I can't." Marian said with those unbearable sad eyes of hers which Jon hated to see so much. They unveiled a pain which he was unable to ease.

"I don't want to believe it." He finally replied whispering and angry.

"You _must_. You've got no other option." She insisted.

"If you're leaving never to come back, there _is_ another option." He said seriously as he kneeled down in front of her.

She gasped when he took a silver ring from a pocket.

"Miss Marian Bluegin," He began using a formal, yet a bit shaky voice. "will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

"_Oh, my_…" She covered her delicate mouth with one hand and didn't have the strength to finish the sentence – such was her amazement. She didn't see that one coming.

In the meantime, Tyrion was already descending the stairs and getting nearer the stables.

"I couldn't possibly care less…" Jon went on seriously but lovingly. "if the world suddenly decides to hate you on a pure whim. Sadly, I've known the experience from first hand. But I've known you long enough to know who you are. _I love you_… and I shan't be parted from you from now on. What do you say?"

"Jon, this is… so…" She whispered back in awe.

At that, Jon stood up and put the silver ring on her left ring finger – and she let him do it, feeling the warmth of his hands and his heart in that simple action. But right after he had done it, she began to shake her head. And Tyrion Lannister saw it from the corner of his eyes as he spied on them from outside the stables.

"Marian… what…?" Jon whispered not daring to face the truth. He couldn't process the fact that she was saying no.

"Jon, I can't take you with me." She whispered on the verge of tears.

"Yes, you can. You can take me to Qarth. No one will ever dare to follow us there!" He complained trying to convince her.

"Jon, I said I _can't_ take you with me." She went on severely, as if she was confessing her darkest sin. "I have my reasons. There's something that you should know… I wanted to tell you _before_ you actually proposed to me, so that you knew beforehand. But that was before I knew they wanted to kill me… Anyway, before I left Qarth a few months ago, I did something awful that…"

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Before I left, _my father disowned me_." She confessed feeling a huge weight on her shoulders.

"What?!" He couldn't believe his ears.

"I shall have _nothing and no one_ in this world when he dies," She added feeling torn. "which will be soon unless I hurry up real quick."

"By why?"

"_Because he didn't want me gone_. We argued a lot because of his illness." She elaborated. "He said that Westeros was '_different'_, dangerous and unruly. That I'd get killed or… Anyway, you know what I mean. The thing is that I said I wanted to leave anyway because it was the only way I could ask for help and develop a cure to his illness. I desperately wanted to spare him and I told him I was willing to do _anything_ to save him. He didn't want my help, he said. I should marry an old childhood friend and start a family and stop working so hard, he said. But I insisted. We spent several days arguing back and forth, until I decided to leave all the same. He threatened me to disown me the second I set a foot on a ship to Westeros… and I did it anyway. So…"

"_What the_-?! Is he _insane_ or what?!" He tried to keep his voice down even though he was angry.

"I was hoping that he'd change his mind once I had come back and cured him. That's my plan. I'd become… a _hero_… or something. Anyway,… If I can do this and arrive in time to save him, I hope he'll welcome me again. Hopefully…" She went on holding onto those words as if her life depended on it – and it did, actually. "I've got no other choice. Now that I have already developed the cure, I know I've still got a chance, but for all I know my father could be dead by now. He was in the last stages of the illness when I left home. What if I come back and I no longer have anything to offer you? Then what? Don't you think it's rather _selfish_ that I should take you with me even though I am clueless as regards my financial future?" Those words stung. Jon was hurting, but Marian was the one to voice those dreadful words, which she didn't like one bit, by the way. "If this new threat on my life didn't exist and Lord Stark decided to keep his word, I would _still_ have a chance to accept your marriage proposal. He would protect us. But not now, not anymore. So much for being the best doctor's apprentice that Winterfell has ever had!" She eventually spat angry as hell while unshed tears were clouding her eyes.

Silence fell. She swallowed hard and he was left speechless.

"Anyway, let's not think about that." She tried to regain her composure and sighed a deep sigh. "For as long as I haven't returned home, he's still alive. I still have got a chance. _No one_ dies on my watch."

"Wait. You mean you actually don't know?" Jon asked.

"No, I don't." She admitted.

"He may have disowned you, but did he also cut any method of communication with you? No messages? No ravens? No nothing?" He asked further, hoping that the issue wasn't _that_ painful.

"Nothing." She whispered in pain.

"_What_?! But why?"

"He's quite _stubborn, _you know." She said followed by a dark chuckle. "I stopped sending messages altogether a few weeks ago. I gave up because it was as if he didn't want to hear about me anymore, but I promised myself that I would settle the scores with him for good when I came home and cured him. I don't want to be treated like _that_ ever again and I want him to know that." She said sternly.

Her pride had been wounded by her own father and she was taking it very badly, that was for sure. Jon wondered whether she would ever forgive him for that.

"What will you do if you come back and you find out he's…?" Jon didn't dare to be that cruel to her, but he wanted to know whether she had a backup plan just in case. "I mean, what if…?"

"_I know what you mean_." She answered drily and darkly, turning her back to him only of a moment. She started rummaging in one of her bags. "What if he's already _dead_ when I come back? ... I've thought about it many times, I swear." She bit her lower lip once. She hated those words and she didn't dare to say them looking straight at him because she knew she'd break down. "Honestly, I don't know… I've got friends and connections in the city. They wouldn't shut me out, _I hope_." She whispered trying to find solace in her lousy backup plan.

She eventually found what she was looking for in her bag: a small, round tin box which contained a coconut-smelling cream. In spite of feeling suddenly nervous and shaking a little, she swiftly opened the box and put a finger in it to spread a little bit of cream over her rosy lips. She did it with her back still turned to him and she didn't face him again until she was done with it.

'This is reckless and I hope he doesn't hate me much for it.' She thought with dread.

"I still prefer to come with you, Marian." Jon insisted looking straight into her eyes, feeling that was his last chance while he held her by her arms. He'd die to make her happy, he was willing to do anything for her. "I'm not backing off. I'm not leaving you alone when it's crystal clear that you need help. And I don't care if you can't offer me anything. We can make it all work, I swear."

His words meant a whole world to her. He was pouring all his heart in those words, and yet she knew she couldn't accept it. She would've loved to bite her lower lip, but she didn't. He felt imposing on her while he held her by her arms, his fingertips sinking in her clothing and flesh with a delightful pressure; that's why her heart started beating a painful rhythm composed in hell: she loved the way he'd do literally anything for her, but she hated to decline any offer from him just to make sure he'd be safe and sound. The desperate look in his bottomless-cliff eyes and the energy in his tense muscles told her he needed her, badly.

But she was an open book by then – Jon knew by the dejected look in her lovely eyes that she'd say no again, that she'd shake her head to him again, that she would do it over and over so that she didn't feel guilty for exposing him to any potential danger. Stubbornness might be a family trait, but she was far more self-sacrificing than stubborn, and Jon knew it. That was why he didn't wait for her to say no again, suddenly leaned over her and kissed her wildly. He needed her to feel what _he_ felt.

His lips were demanding on hers, but she didn't back off. She didn't let him pass her lush lips. Jon felt it odd that she didn't give in to his advances at that moment. Was it her pride again? He remembered quite clearly how easy it had been to kiss her out of her mind in Maester Luwin's study room. He knew she had loved it. On top of that, she tasted differently, but equally sweet like other times before.

He held her dearly and a lot more possessively than before with his arms, sliding one hand to the small of her back and the other to her nape, as if he thought she'd vanish into thin air the second he let her go. But a moment later, when she placed both her hands on either side of his face, he felt his own pride shine brighter than the sun – and then she let him kiss her deeply and deeply. She had given in, _finally_ – or that was what he thought then.

'I already regret what's going to happen,' She thought with dread at that moment. 'but that's the way it must be.'

Then, Jon led her body to the nearest wall in the stables and pinned her there. She blushed and moaned shyly into his mouth when her back softly collided with the cold wall. But Jon didn't waste a single second and shot his left hand to her right leg, hoisting it up to the side of his waist and holding her body tightly with his right arm. She gasped and broke the kiss.

"What are you doing?" She asked naively almost out of breath. Her blushing cheeks matched his.

"Something neither of us will ever regret." He darky whispered back at her with hooded eyes and that velvet-like, husky voice of his.

And when he started kissing her again, she understood what he wanted from her and blushed even more. He leaned harder on her body, crushed between the cold wall behind her and the man whose body was burning from unfulfilled desires. She could even notice his hard-on between his legs aching to find her. In the meantime, he was kissing her into oblivion. His left hand found its way under her long skirt and began to trail a painfully delicate path up her thigh, travelling 'north' to a quickly-heating, wet spot of her body. And suddenly she knew she had lost all control over her treacherous body, which was automatically reacting to _anything_ that Jon decided to do to her.

'Should I let him have his way with me right now?' She asked herself feeling weaker than ever. 'I love him… and I won't probably ever see him again. A pity it's too late already…'

But before she could wonder any further and before he could progress his teasing any further, he was progressively losing his strength and frowned. He felt his arms going limp bit by bit. He didn't understand what was going on.

His legs felt rusty and heavy. His sight went slightly cloudy and so did his mind. He stopped kissing her and groaned as if he didn't feel up to his best, but before he could actually complain about it Marian was already and very slowly leading him to a corner of the stables where there was a nice, comfy pile of straw and helped him to sit there. He didn't even realise that she was doing that to him. He suddenly needed to sit and lay down so badly that he didn't notice the look of worry in her eyes as she stared at him.

Once she had helped him to lie down on the straw, she decided to say something.

"Jon, I'm so sorry." She whispered feeling torn apart, and then she held one of his cheeks very gently. "You don't know the mess I'm in. Please, forgive me. I'll send for you if I succeed. I need to go… _I love you_."

Next, she took the silver ring off her finger and her sea shell necklace off her neck, and then she put the ring in the string of the necklace. The sea shell and the ring jingled a bit when she put the string around his neck and hid them beneath the high collar of his clothing. It was still warm because of her own skin – and he could instantly recognise her scent on it, and he loved it. But he didn't understand anything at all, and before he could ask anything she leaned down on him and kissed him softly on the lips, just once, very sweetly and innocently – and right when she was done, he had already fallen asleep.

In the meantime, Tyrion had kept a very low profile and wondered how she managed to knock Jon out with a single kiss. He went back to his room, unseen. He didn't want to be spotted.

Next, Marian stood up, blew the candle, and before the thin trail of smoke could be even smelt she was already gone.

For good.

Forever.

'Goodbye, Winterfell.' She thought with pain in her heart as she briefly stole a last glimpse of the city in the cold distance, surrounded by vast, never-ending slopes of snow and ice. The look of the city which had been her home for the last few weeks was imposing surrounded by snow. 'Goodbye… It was brief, but nice.'

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary**: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC

**Disclaimer**: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)

*Today, also a little bit of 'Bond, James Bond' flavour in the title. Enjoy! XOXO

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Previously…**

Once she had helped him to lie down on the straw, she decided to say something.

"Jon, I'm so sorry." She whispered feeling torn apart, and then she held one of his cheeks very gently. "You don't know the mess I'm in. Please, forgive me. I'll send for you if I succeed. I need to go… _I love you_."

Next, she took the silver ring off her finger and her sea shell necklace off her neck, and then she put the ring in the string of the necklace. The sea shell and the ring jingled a bit when she put the string around his neck and hid them beneath the high collar of his clothing. It was still warm because of her own skin – and he could instantly recognise her scent on it, and he loved it. But he didn't understand anything at all, and before he could ask anything she leaned down on him and kissed him softly on the lips, just once, very sweetly and innocently – and right when she was done, he had already fallen asleep.

In the meantime, Tyrion had kept a very low profile and wondered how she managed to knock Jon out with a single kiss. He went back to his room, unseen. He didn't want to be spotted.

Next, Marian stood up, blew the candle, and before the thin trail of smoke could be even smelt she was already gone.

For good.

Forever.

'Goodbye, Winterfell.' She thought with pain in her heart as she briefly stole a last glimpse of the city in the cold distance, surrounded by vast, never-ending slopes of snow and ice. The look of the city which had been her home for the last few weeks was imposing surrounded by snow. 'Goodbye… It was brief, but nice.'

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 10: The spy who loved you**

It was close to midnight when what Marian feared so much eventually took place. Some candles were lit in the king's chambers in Winterfell, which he didn't share with his wife, not even at home, in King's Landing. But that didn't mean that he was alone…

"WHAT THE _FUCK_ IS THIS?!" King Robert yelled in an ecstasy of anger, his arms shaking with ire while reading and re-reading a letter which seemed to make no sense at all. "WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO MAKE OF _THIS_?! BY THE OLD GODS AND THE NEW, THIS IS BEYOND UNACCEPTABLE! _I WILL KILL THAT WHORE_!"

He wasn't referring to the slut who had shared his bed that night. She had nice legs and a nice ass, and she had done a great job before that suspicious letter had been delivered to him. She had been dismissed the second the king knew it dealt with something which was deeply wrong.

The king could roar like a lion if he wanted to, but no one dared to make that remark out loud. Only Lord and Lady Stark, Maester Luwin and the king himself were present at that moment, in his chambers in Winterfell. He had sent for them even though everyone had already gone to bed after the dinner party. They were probably asleep already, but the king didn't care. Sensitive information regarding the king's biological legacy had been purposefully and carelessly been leaked according to that shameful letter in his hands.

"Your highness," Lord Stark carefully tried to instil some sense and calmness into his friend's mind. "you should keep calm and try not to lose your temper. This issue is quite delicate and you don't want to…"

"I'M PERFECTLY AWARE OF WHAT I WANT AND WHAT I DON'T WANT – THANK YOU." The king spat back at Lord Stark. His dishevelled, dark hair looked too wild. "I shan't allow this anymore! Those who defy me shall be executed first thing in the morning! I don't need to think any more about it! My mind is set."

"Your highness," Lady Stark dared to speak, only being extremely careful and kind to him. She spoke slowly and politely. "executions shall be made if you wish it so, but don't you think it's a bit radical? Why not consider imprisonment instead?"

"Lady Stark," The king stared at her like an evil predator and spoke to her with a dreadfully husky voice that made her hair stand on end. "you have experience on that, don't you? How do you feel knowing that your spouse engendered a bastard son? What of those feelings of hurt and betrayal that you probably harbour in your chest? What if the bastard was given equal rights to your own offspring? _Yes_, that look on your face _right now_ –" The king mocked her. "that _dejected, painful, jealous_ expression on your beautiful face tells me all I need to know. That's how I feel right know."

"I may _not_ like Jon but that doesn't mean I would love to kill him." She whispered back defiantly.

"_Enough_." Lord Stark interrupted with a deep, harsh frown. "The current issue may be similar but it questions _your_ dynasty, my king. I know it makes you rage, your highness, but I honestly think that _your_… I mean… _the_ three kids shouldn't be killed for a sin that _their parents_ committed, not they. I suggest that you command Queen Cersei and Jaime Lannister's executions, but let the children be. They're guiltless."

"It's only fair, you highness." Maester Luwin added seriously. "Yes, they are guiltless. Please, consider this carefully. Queen Cersei and her twin brother committed incest and she delivered children who are not yours, so I also think they should be spared, you highness, although we understand how you feel about the issue."

"My will has been determined!" The king was fed up with the subject already. "I don't want any reminder of that _embarrassing wife_ of mine! That whore shall not live another day! Lord Stark, tell your guards to apprehend anyone bearing Lannister blood. _ALL of them_ shall be imprisoned and executed first thing at dawn."

Silence fell and Lord Stark was sure he could not say anything that could make the king change his mind.

"Very well then, my king." Lord Stark concluded sadly. "It shall be done as you say. What about the other problem that your ginger-haired spy mentions in her letter? What about…?"

Yes, the letter had been written by that mysterious, ginger woman whose looks and dark, evil smile were so terrifying. And apparently, she had decided to reveal her true intentions in that fated letter to King Robert.

"Yes, about _that_…" The king cut him, and seemed a sad clown all of a sudden. His anger was gone and his muscles relaxed. He gently closed his eyes and sighed once, and then Lord Stark would've sworn that his dear royal friend was in pain. With a sad voice, he voiced his current concern: "Send some maids to fetch… _her_. I want to meet _the girl_ before I decide what to do with her."

"Very well, your highness." Lord Stark whispered back to the king, and then he left the room followed by his wife and Maester Luwin. When he was just about to close the door, he said seriously: "I'll send for _Marian_ immediately."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A few minutes later, Tyrion Lannister got woken up from bed by Lord Stark's guards and taken to prison, where the three children were already locked up. None of them understood what was going on. Cersei and Jaime Lannister would soon be discovered in a lonesome tower in the act of consummating one of their dirtiest deeds once more. As soon as they were found, they were also locked up in prison. Since no one had told them the reason why they were treated like that, some serious, verbal threats had been issued, but the guards paid no heed. Soon the rumours spread and the servants were making fun of them – and that was when Cersei and Jaime realised they were really fucked up.

As much as King Robert wanted to keep the matter in private, it was useless. The servants and guards were quickly spreading the truth about Queen Cersei's three bastards, who were undoubtedly the inbred offspring of her womb and Jaime's seed, bringing shame on the king's name and honour. But it couldn't be helped then. What was done, was done.

King Robert was waiting in his chambers for a young girl whose name was Marian. He needed to see her urgently. His frown grew deeper and deeper as the minutes passed by, waiting for her.

"Now the only thing left for me to do" King Robert whispered sternly while he stared for a moment out of the window, into the darkness of the night. "is to mend this awful situation myself. I have to deal with it as swiftly as I can. You said you'd send for the girl! _Where the hell is she_?!"

Lord Stark was listening intently and respectfully, although he had just arrived, breathing hard and wearing a mask of worry, as if he had to unveil dreadful news.

"Your highness," Lord Stark managed to say as calmly as he could. "she's not here."

"I can see that." King Robert said with mild sarcasm while staring at him.

"No, I mean she's _nowhere_ to be found. Her room is empty. I'm afraid she's gone."

"_WHAT_?!" King Robert exclaimed unable to believe his friend's words. "Where?! Hasn't she told anyone or left any clues?! A note? A letter?"

"I'm afraid not." Lord Stark said mildly hesitating, and he swallowed once, visibly worried. But his eyes told a different story – and the king had known Ned Stark long enough to read those eyes properly. He knew them perfectly well.

"_Are you sure_?" The king's dark, husky voice uttered questions which couldn't be ignored. "You know something, Stark… At this point, I will _not_ tolerate any more information being hidden from me, is that clear?"

The king was frowning and his facial expression was fierce and imposing.

"I've… I've made everyone in the palace rise from bed and search for her, but…" Lord Stark went on feeling a weight on his shoulders.

"But _what_?! Spit it out already!" The king commanded with impatience.

"There was only one other person missing who might know about her whereabouts." Lord Stark spoke so lowly that he almost whispered.

"Who's that? A maid? A girl friend? ... An accomplice?" The king chuckled freely as he served himself some wine and then raising the cup to meet his lips. "Should I be worried, Stark?"

"It's my son, Jon." Lord Stark whispered with fear.

King Robert spat the wine he was trying to drink.

"WHAT?" He yelled. "The bastard you made me promise that I'd knight tomorrow?! That very same who's been watching over her?! The one you want to acknowledge like a lawful son and make him marry her without your wife's knowledge and consent?! _He_ is the one who's _also_ missing? YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS!"

The king knew what could be implied from that. Did Jon flee with her? Had they developed a secret love affair which they were willing to keep at all costs? Did they know about the contents of the letter and, therefore, had they eloped together? A moment later, he sighed and regained his composure, and then he said thus:

"Since everyone is awake already, I shall make a public announcement." The king said, regaining his composure. "Tell everyone to gather in the dining room. And fetch your bastard boy as soon as possible. I _do_ hope you can find him. I don't want him near her. I want to question him. And if he's _touched_ her, _you'll_ be to blame, Stark. I hope you know that the promise I made is, of course, _broken_, don't you?"

Lord Stark swallowed hard.

"It's _me_ who decides what will become of her." The king insisted with a growl.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Half an hour later, all the people in the Winterfell court and the servants had been summoned in the dining room to listen to the king's public announcement. He had also ordered to bring the Lannisters there and chain them to one of the walls. They needed to listen carefully to what he had to say. In the meantime, Tyrion was frowning and trying to think of a way out of that one – he was smart enough to make it, and he knew it.

The dining room was buzzing with the sound of multiple voices gossiping about the recent course of events, and they were so busy that they didn't see a couple of guards dragging a beaten-up Jon and making him kneel on the ground in a corner of the dining room with a kick of their boots. His hands had been tied at his back and it was obvious that he had been found and woken up in the stables in a brutal manner. As he was made to kneel down, Marian's sea shell and the silver ring jingled together beneath his clothing. It was the only reassuring thing that Jon could hold on to.

"Kneel down, you _bastard_ dog." One of the guards said despising him. "I _knew_ you were no better than that."

"Always acting so high and mighty…" The other one said with scorn. "What were you doing in the stables when everybody was looking for Marian, huh?! When the king knows we've found you precisely _there_…"

That guard spat at him then, but he didn't answer anything at all. His eyes were two burning orbs of anger, but he knew how to subdue his wild side when he wanted to. But what overpowered his mind at that moment wasn't the ill treatment he was receiving from the guards: his sanity was fighting a hard, losing battle in his mind to figure out why Marian had left so suddenly and so afraid of being killed.

"Silence, please. The king." Lord Stark said rising from his chair when the king entered the dining room and walked up to the seat of honour, right beside Lord Stark's, at the main table.

King Robert's frown had not faded and his angry strides denoted his badly contained anger. He passed by the servants' tables while they bowed – Ros and little Diane were also there, bowing but Ros could spot Jon from afar and she wondered why he was kept at the back and treated so roughly; a few seconds later, the king passed by the Stark offspring's table. All the Stark children and Theon bowed, but there were two empty seats: Marian's and Jon's. At that, Robb wondered what was going on and frowned at both their empty chairs. No one had realised that Jon was actually at the back except for Ros. Arya wondered what the matter was, still feeling terribly sleepy. In the meantime, Sansa felt her heart torn apart when she saw her dear prince tied to a wall like a slave.

"Are you sure you want to do this, your highness?" Lord Stark whispered to the king when he arrived at his side, by the table. "It's rather personal information. Are you absolutely sure you want to share _this_ with all the court and the Lannister traitors?"

"Absolutely, Stark." The king whispered back seriously.

The crowd gathered that night/_very_ early morning in the dining room felt the dread of something awful going on.

"_Attention everybody_!" King Robert began roaring with his thunder-like voice so that every single person could listen. "I have a very important announcement to make – and _unfortunately_ it can't wait. Since I'm not great at making fine speeches, I'll read out to you a fragment of a dreadful letter which I have received only a few hours ago, not long after the dinner party had finished."

And then, he proceeded to read the aforementioned letter with all the dignity he could muster, even though it dealt with obscure matters regarding his past and present.

"It reads like this:" He began rather formally. "My dear King Robert Baratheon, first of many titles which I won't bother to mention, and first and last of my _lovers_," He coughed once while the audience became dumbfounded. Was he reading a letter from a former lover to them?! Unbelievable. But he went on: "I am writing my last letter to you to let you know the truth about it all. First of all, I would like to announce that I quit as your personal spy. I shall no longer respond to any of your commands in that direction, should you ever find me (and let me assure you that you will _not_), but as a treat I shall spill my last secrets into your mind, so that you shall remember me for what I was to you – a _tool_ to obtain other people's secrets and hurt them at your will. The first of my secrets, therefore, is that for lots of years I have known that your wife, Queen Cersei, has been unfaithful to you with her own twin brother, Jaime Lannister. They have had intercourse over the last few years behind your back, so much so that 'your' three children could be considered bastards. I am a woman and I assure you I did the count myself. I am afraid that the Queen's children are not yours, but Jaime's. Therefore, you don't have a lawful heir to the Iron Throne."

Right after that, the audience started whispering with disapproval and the king had to mute them altogether. Sansa's tears flooded down her rosy cheeks.

"By the way, my dear audience," The king told them directly. "They've been caught in the act tonight, so there's no point in denying it now." He said looking menacingly at Cersei and Jaime, which didn't dare to say a word. "They will be beheaded at dawn… But the letter goes on: It will make you insane, I hope, to learn this from me bearing in mind my second secret: your dear Queen Cersei has been asking far too many questions in King's Landing recently. She was jealous of your multiple whores and commanded to kill every single bastard that you may have ever engendered – and let me tell you that it was one of the greatest massive murders that have ever taken place in Westeros. Therefore, you cannot even aspire to have a bastard son who could inherit the Iron Throne when you are gone from this sad world."

The news of the massive murder of children generated a wave of disgust and unbearable sadness. Some servant women even fainted. Jon was thunderstruck, staring blankly at the king from afar, and he wondered whether Marian's behaviour had any connections with those shocking news.

"And last but not least," The king went on reading with dread. "my third and last secret for you – which, let me assure you, I _relish_ a great deal in unveiling to you after so many years. You betrayed me and you never regretted it. And now you are paying for it, my dear lover. Once upon a time, you loved me and made love to me. Do you even remember those happy times? Your lips were full of promises of marriage which you did _not_ fulfil, and as a consequence you made me become a dark shadow of myself. Let it be known that nine months after you made love to me, I delivered a child in the foreign land of Qarth, where I took refuge after you broke my heart into a thousand little pieces."

At that, Jon's heart skipped a beat. The audience in the dining room gasped in awe.

"The poor little thing was of _female_ sex and an extremely innocent and beautiful creature. I could not take care for the child, because coming back to King's Landing with a _bastard_ female child could only mean that she would eventually make a living in a brothel – and I did not want that to happen. Therefore, I gave the child to a well-known doctor from Qarth whose…"

But the king could not proceed with that tale of sadness and heartache, because the audience could only whisper one name – and one name only, _Marian_. She had become a highly-valued, dearly-beloved member of the community, and her real personal story was breaking their hearts.

Even Jon's lips found a way to whisper her name even though he was astounded beyond any possible limits: the woman he loved was a princess, actually. A bastard, also, but a princess at the end of the day. Also, Robb's eyes glowed and he let his jaw drop in amazement. Theon stared blankly at the king as if he was frozen. And Arya didn't feel sleepy anymore, to be sure. Little Diane was thunderstruck, while Ros couldn't help but recalling their lesbian session. She had kissed and touched a princess… But the king went on:

"… to a well-known doctor from Qarth whose wife had just died that same day." The king continued seriously. "He accepted to take care of the child as if it was his own and he swore no one would ever know the truth. He eventually told me that he would say that his wife had died during labour. Tricky as destiny has decided to be, I remember that you have received many letters from Lord Stark recently which deal with a very bright-minded young lady from Qarth whose father is a doctor and whose age perfectly matches our love affair. What an extraordinary coincidence, isn't it? Should you see her, I am sure that you would recognise her wonderfully lush, dark hair which resembles your own, among other physical traits which cannot deny the truth that I have just exposed. But wait! Is she _here_ while you are reading this letter? Do you think you could fetch her now and finally meet _your one and only choice as an heir_ to the Iron Throne? Let me give you a clue: _no, you cannot meet her_. You will not _ever_ meet her, because tonight I have found her and I have told her the truth about her birth and Queen Cersei's plans of murdering every single bastard child who bears your blood – _and that you secretly consent to it_."

Lord Stark was in pain as he heard those ill-meant words, and Robb's pupils shivered mildly due to the shock. Theon even started to regret having spoken to Marian so freely and having harassed her – he had been harassing a princess. But the worst reaction was Jon's, who got paler and paler because then he understood the whole thing. He recognised the desperation in her eyes and in her voice before in the stables. That was her story.

"It is only half a truth and half a lie," The king went on reading. "but let me assure you that at the moment she is nowhere to be found because she has fled from Winterfell and from Westeros for good, _never_ to return, lest you would find her and _murder_ her because you believe that she is a _parasite_ that needs to be annihilated, like the rest of your bastards. Be careful, my king, because if you decide to send for her, even to follow her back to Qarth, she will believe that you will _not_ be satisfied with her fleeing to a foreign country, that you want her _dead and erased from history_. She may rather do something awful to herself rather than being found by your men, as I have suggested to her myself as she left…"

Robb couldn't take it anymore and rose from his seat in an uncontrollable fit of passion. He needed to do something to save her even though Jon had already told him that they would be engaged soon. Naturally, Robb still felt wounded and jealous, but he was sure that the current revelations would certainly change the course of history. King Robert would not allow Jon to marry her – he was sure of it, as sure as Jon was at that moment. Jon was hurting inside because he knew she would try to fight back whenever a soldier from Westeros would try to apprehend her.

"Anyway," The king went on. "The letter goes on with more insults, but I shan't read them out loud. But let me tell you all that I have already decided on the fate of the Iron Throne: all the Lannisters shall be beheaded at dawn to pay for their crimes, and I shall send ravens and men to make sure _Princess Marian_ is safe and sound – and to let her know the _complete, actual truth_ about the current situation. As regards the spy who had been at my service, she's fled too – and I'll send my men to deal with her _later_, once we've made sure Princess Marian is here with us. She's my number one priority, as it should be yours. Let it be known that she's my one and only heir. _Hail Princess Marian_!"

The crowd repeated those words like the chorus of a joyful song, feeling glad that such a nice person like her would become their queen one day, but also feeling worried because of the current state of affairs. The only person who didn't seem particularly worried was Tyrion: he had half a smile drawn on his lips as if he knew the way to saving his own life – but he was keeping a low profile at the moment.

In the meantime, Jon didn't know what to do with his currently flooding feelings for her. Kneeling on the cold floor with a guard on either side of him, it was clear to him then that she had fled from Winterfell and left him behind with the best of her intentions, believing that he'd be safe, but staying there would actually mean something different to Jon: he knew that he was done for if the king knew about their feelings for each other. A bastard in love with a princess? The king might have already been told by Lord Stark in those previously mentioned letters… If it was the case, he instantly knew he'd face a fate worse than going to the Wall – or _death_ itself. The king would not be pleased to have him as Marian's husband and future king of Westeros. That would and could _never_ happen.

And then, Jon remembered she had told him to _deny_ her, _deny_ any connection with her in order to save his own life – for the wrong reasons, of course. But she didn't know the actual truth.

She didn't know that, in spite of being a bastard, she was precious not only to his real, biological father, but also to an entire nation.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A few minutes later, all the servants had already gone to bed except a selected group of guards from Winterfell and King's Landing, and some noble men, who had gathered around the huge fireplace in the king's chambers to discuss pending affairs. The group of nobles included the king himself, Lord Stark and Robb. The only member of the group who didn't actually fit to be there, apparently at least, was Jon – still bound and well-guarded.

"Very well, then." King Robert told a couple of guards. "Get some ravens and send these messages at once. They have the utmost importance. They have to reach the main cities to let them know about Princess Marian. Keep your eyes open at all times should any ravens come back with news, or men escorting my dear daughter back here. Set out for her with a large group of men and disperse so that you can cover more ground. Find her for me. As soon as possible. Should you find other guards, they will help you, since I'm sending ravens everywhere to inform of the situation. _Find her_. _Is that_ _clear_?" The king asked with severity.

The guards immediately left the room and swiftly did as told.

Lord Stark didn't dare to look at Jon, and neither did Robb. The situation was uncomfortable for all of them, except the king, of course. It felt weird to have him present in such a condition, but they knew what the king thought of him and what he had in mind for him for the next few minutes.

"Your highness," Lord Stark said with worry then. "If the word that Marian is your only daughter and a princess spreads, she could be in real danger. She could get kidnapped – or worse."

"We'll have to take that risk…" The king swiftly concluded. "and hope that the lords I'm writing to obey my commands in a very quick and proper manner. She should be brought back by morning unharmed, if the ravens travel fast enough. I assume she might've not travelled far."

"Let's hope so." Lord Stark added whispering.

"And now that we have to sit and wait for her to return," The king went on feeling sarcastically amused. "let's have a chat with you real quick, young man. I have some time to spare and I'd love to _waste_ it with you."

He was obviously referring to Jon, who seemed to undergo a mental torture already. He had a couple of bruises on his forehead and jaw, but he knew that those would be nothing compared to the state he'd be in once this 'conversation' with the king would be over.

"Your highness," Lord Stark was bold enough to intervene at that moment. "please, go easy on him. Bear in mind that none of us knew the truth about her birth story."

"I know that, Stark." The king glared at him. "But I want to know more about him and what he was doing in the stables at such an hour when my daughter should've been there to fetch her horse and flee." At that, Lord Stark didn't dare to say anything further. "Very well, then. You, _Jon Snow_'s the name, right?" The king's voice was euphemistically bittersweet as he was talking to Jon, coming dangerously closer to him. Jon stared at the king's shoes. "What's the nature of your relationship with my daughter?"

"I was told by Lord Stark to be her bodyguard for as long as she'd stay in Winterfell." Jon whispered with seriousness and pain in his heart. At last, he dared to meet King Robert's eyes. "Nothing more."

'_Deny me_, she said.' Jon thought feeling the heartache in those two simple words. He frowned and the look in his eyes became fierce but contained. He knew she had told him that to guarantee his safety, but he honestly didn't know what to do. If he had a choice, he'd love to be by her side for the rest of their days – and he'd make sure she'd be the happiest woman on Earth.

"Why should I _believe_ you, young man?" The king asked feeling weary of the sight of Jon already. "Tell me, _why_? Because you're a bastard son of Lord Stark, perhaps?! I may have agreed with him to knight you in my letters, but given the current state of affairs I'm not so sure anymore!" He made a crucial pause, but his anger didn't falter at all. Jon was certain that the king thought that he'd tried to impose himself on her against her will. The king went on in a very bad mood, while he grabbed his dark curls and pulled his face to him a little bit: "Now, tell me what you were doing in the stables a few hours ago…"

Jon hesitated for a couple of seconds, but he knew the truth would always be his greatest ally. Besides, he was awful at lying.

"I saw a light in the stables and decided to go out there and see it for myself." Jon finally answered with sadness. "I saw her packing her stuff."

There was a loud knocking on the door before Jon could go on. Out of the blue, the king let his hair go.

"Your highness, my lord." A guard suddenly said coming into the room followed by a partner. "Tyrion Lannister says he has got some important information to deliver to the king and he won't be persuaded to say anything further about it. Shall we bring him here, as he requests so badly?"

Both the king and Lord Stark sighed in defeat and agreed to Tyrion's request. But in the meantime, Jon's answer needed to be finished, even though he was not especially interested in delivering it fully.

"Continue, boy." The king commanded.

"Your highness," Lord Stark interrupted suddenly. "Jon is a dutiful son to me. He knows the meaning of honour."

"_Oh, shut up, Stark_!" The king interjected. "You're bound to say that because you're fond of him! Would your wife confirm that he knows the meaning of honour? Any of your banner men? Your legitimate offspring, perhaps?"

"I would, your highness." Robb answered trying to be as firm and formal as possible.

"I see…" The king said hesitating. "But I still want to know what happened." Then, he stared directly at Jon and told him: "Continue."

"I saw her packing her stuff… and then…" He was unsure whether he should reveal the part in which he had proposed to her, kissed her and tried to make love to her. The king would have him tortured, vexed, dishonoured and killed if he did. "I got angry with her, we argued for some minutes, and… I tried to persuade her that she was being foolish, but then she…"

"She knocked him out!" Tyron Lannister said with joy and pride as he entered with his hands tied and with a guard on either side of him. "She's a fierce young lady, I must say!"

"What?!" The king roared, staring with incredulity at the blond-haired imp.

"Yep." Tyrion went on gladly as if there was no threat on his life. "She's quite daring and smart, not to mention _heartless_."

At that, Jon's heart skipped a beat. Not only did he found that comment offensive, but also it revealed that Tyrion had seen it all. He had seen them, spied on them. He had seen everything.

_Everything_.

'He must've been spying on us!' Jon thought in panic. 'I'm a dead man. If he spills the beans, the king's gonna kill me for sure.'

"_Heartless_?" Lord Stark asked genuinely lost. "I would affirm exactly the opposite." And Robb mentally agreed, but didn't say a word.

"_Quite_ heartless, I'm afraid it's true." Tyrion went on in the same happy mood. "Wanna bet my life on it, you highness?"

"Your life isn't worth much _lately_, Tyrion." The king spat back with anger. "Is that the extremely important information that you're bragging about?"

"Not really." Tyrion smiled back at the king. "Actually, I've got two issues I wanted to bring your attention to. Marian and Jon's story in the stables is only the first one. Would you care to know what I saw they were doing?"

Jon swallowed hard as he remembered her sinfully sweet lips, soft skin, warm tongue, magnetic eyes, shy moans, and quivering thighs because of his delightfully threatening, romantic advances.

"Let me be straight and honest with you, imp." The king told him serious as hell. "I shan't be toyed with. Thus, don't try to fool me. Otherwise, I'll have you killed here on the spot. On the other hand, I'm curious. But that doesn't mean I'll spare your life at dawn, understood?"

"You'd have no doubts on the veracity of my story if you were willing to pay an honest price for it. Otherwise, where's the sense in telling the truth? I would just tell you a nasty story with which I'd only hope to anger you to no avail."

"You're a wise orator, Tyrion." The king replied smirking as he raised his cup of wine. "Fine words for a fine aim, which is saving your ass." Then he chuckled a bit, but he was convinced with Tyrion's perspective on the matter. "_Not bad_, not at all."

"I can only trust your own wisdom, your highness." Tyrion answered politely.

"Fair enough: I like your spunk, imp!" The king said joyfully. "Let's see if Jon's story matches your own. Then, tell me all there is to know about that second matter you wanted to bring to my attention and we'll settle a deal to spare your life. Go on!"

'I'm done for…' Jon thought, softly closing his eyes and trying to veil the look of worry on his face.

"Very well, then." Tyrion proceeded with the recollection of what he saw in the stables. "As I was saying, she's quite heartless. Jon was opening his heart to her… I saw how he was putting a silver ring on her left ring finger."

"_WHAT_?!" The king exclaimed all of a sudden.

All the men present gasped in unison. They were expecting a different tale in which Jon was trying to persuade her to stay, not proposing to her.

"They argued and argued because she wouldn't hear a word about it." Tyrion said immediately afterwards, but then he chanced to look at Jon for a moment and sadly told him thus: "I'm sorry, pal. Women… Who can trust them, _huh_?" Then he looked back at the king and continued. "Anyway, he insisted but she didn't back off. She didn't want anything to do with him. She wanted him to stay here in Winterfell and forget about her. She was obviously upset for something else which I couldn't fathom at the moment, and I guess it must've been the spy's threats on her life, your highness."

At that, Jon clenched his teeth and kept them hidden behind his tightly tense lips.

"So you proposed to her, _huh_, bastard?" The king roared at Jon with anger. "Would you care to _deny_ it at least?"

Jon didn't say a word and he just stared at the cold tiles on the floor.

"Not a word?" The king asked Jon enraged. "_How did you dare_?"

"He didn't know she is a princess, which is obvious. But wait, your highness. There's more." Tyrion went on like a jester. "She told him a tale of sadness and pain involving her adoptive father."

"What happened?"

"She got _disowned_ when she decided to leave Qarth to set sail to Winterfell in order to find a cure for him, it seems." Tyrion said with sadness. "That was insanely brave on her behalf. She was hoping to get back before he'd die, and then save him. Then, perhaps he might reconsider not disowning her."

"That man is mad! What if she's too late to save him? What's ahead of her in Qarth then?" The king asked in panic and worry.

"She acknowledged she didn't know." Tyrion went on. "But she also said that she didn't care, that she'd think of something. But, you see, your highness, she summed it all up by saying that otherwise she would never refuse Jon's proposal."

"_WHAT_?!" The king roared again.

"I am not an expert on the subject, but" Tyrion added rather playfully. "I really think that means she _loves_ him, your highness."

"That does it. I'll have you beheaded with the Lannisters at dawn, _you bastard_…!" The king said trying not to unleash his ire. Lord Stark began to fear the worst.

"It's not me who said that. _She_ did." Tyrion went on. "Jon insisted he wanted to leave with her anyway. She refused. _Again_… and then he _kissed_ her."

"_WHAT_?" The exclamation erupted, volcano-like, in the throats of every single man in the room, except for Jon. Robb tried to veil a sudden attack of jealousy.

"_A bastard kissing her_?!" The king was losing it.

'_Scaffold, here I go_.' Jon though with unbearable sadness.

"And the whole thing might've gone a bit further if she hadn't been so heartless to stab Jon in the back." Tyrion had the full attention of everyone in the room then. "She knocked him out in a very Qarthian fashion, by the way. Did you know that the women there use a sleep-inducing lip cream to get rid of certain men? That's _exactly_ what she did. She _knew_ Jon would kiss her sooner or later, therefore she decided to use it on him. She applied a cream on her lips and a minute after he kissed her he was lying unconscious on a pile of straw, where I'm sure your men have found him."

The king found no words to compliment her proper behaviour. She had to defend her honour and he was approving it.

"Nice tale, imp. Anything else?" The king asked him.

"No, your highness. She left immediately after that."

"Good." The king concluded as he took a large sip of red wine. "You might still save your ass, little imp. Tell me about the second issue."

"Very well, your highness." Tyrion went on, but he frowned. He wanted to guarantee his safety _before_ he got to tell the king about it all.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In the meantime, Marian was able to reach Ramsgate safe and sound, apparently unfollowed. She praised her luck and smiled at the early morning mist thrown on the sea like a long, white, pure and delicate skirt.

Actually, she had arrived in the nick of time: a ship was about to set sail to Qarth because they had a large purchase order of wine and fine clothing to deliver back home as soon as possible. A large quantity of money was at stake – and Marian could also speak that language: she paid a dear amount in gold to be allowed on board with her stuff and her horse. Not long after four o'clock in the morning, the ship was ready to leave. Half an hour later, and thanks to the tide, they were in deep waters, a long way from Westeros already, when suddenly a raven came flying to the captain of the ship.

"A raven!" He exclaimed with joy.

Without any further delay, he opened the letter and read it. A couple of seconds later, he started laughing wholeheartedly at it, which drew the curiosity of the entire crew and Marian herself.

"Some _stupid_ lord wants me to come back immediately, it seems!" He said with sarcasm to his men. "He threatens me with aggressive military retaliation if I don't give the order to come back at once… _What a moron_!"

"But why?" A member of the crew asked his captain.

"Nothing. He doesn't give anything away." The captain replied in a joyful tone. But right when Marian suspected that the nobility of Westeros was already looking for her and that the captain would have no other choice but to return to Westeros, he went on mocking them and laughing at them. "Like we're going back _now_! Just because _they_ say so! What about the money I'd lose! I have a living to make! These nobles of Westeros…! So high and mighty…"

He was speaking so freely and giving zero fucks about what nobles could do or say to threaten him and his ship that all his men laughed with him. And Marian chilled out. The ship was not going back.

Her long, dark hair danced proudly in the cool air of the early morning as she leaned on her side, right beside the mast. She stared at the horizon in the east with a warm smile on her face, hoping to soon see the sunlight rising there and wishing to land on her well-known shores of Qarth. In the meantime, a bank of mist thickened right behind the ship, as if it was building a giant wall meant to shield them from any potential pursuers, which meant that they would not be followed or attacked. It was impossible.

In spite of her nauseating distress as regards her future, she was looking forward to meeting her father. She still held him dearly in her heart although he had wounded her pride. Once she'd cure him, everything would fall in its natural place and they would live happily ever after – especially once she would tell him about Jon and convince him to open his arms to him. Then, she would only need to send Jon a message telling him to secretly leave Winterfell and cross the sea towards her loving arms. She would guarantee the well-being of their financial future – and he would guarantee the well-being of her heart. His lips would be hers once more.

All those issues about the Iron Throne, bastards, princesses, spies, and murders in that multi-levelled power game sickened her to the core, but it would soon be behind them, a trembling and vague remembrance of a vanishing nightmare.

They would be free – forever.

_And free to continue where they had left it off…_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In the meantime, in the king's chambers…

"Your highness," Tyrion spoke with a husky voice and stern eyes. "I just want to make sure you will actually bail me out."

The king smirked at him, but he understood that he would have to make some sort of concession in order to make the imp speak.

"Granted, as long as you don't dare to show your face in King's Landing." The king spoke calmly for the first time in that conversation. "Do we have a deal?"

"Deal." Tyrion replied with a naughty smile.

"I really hope your second issue is as _interesting_ as the first." The king actually knew it would, that was why he sounded so confident.

"Oh, you know me, don't you, your highness?" Tyrion said knowing he was a master at the game. He loved reading and telling stories.

"What is it about then?" The king asked with genuine curiosity.

"About _the_ _spy who loved you_." Tyrion said lengthening the last sound as if he relished in the agony of the air as it was used to say such treacherous words.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary**: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC

**Disclaimer**: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Previously…**

In the meantime, in the king's chambers…

"Your highness," Tyrion spoke with a husky voice and stern eyes. "I just want to make sure you will actually bail me out."

The king smirked at him, but he understood that he would have to make some sort of concession in order to make the imp speak.

"Granted, as long as you don't dare to show your face in King's Landing." The king spoke calmly for the first time in that conversation. "Do we have a deal?"

"Deal." Tyrion replied with a naughty smile.

"I really hope your second issue is as _interesting_ as the first." The king actually knew it would, that was why he sounded so confident.

"Oh, you know me, don't you, your highness?" Tyrion said knowing he was a master at the game. He loved reading and telling stories.

"What is it about then?" The king asked with genuine curiosity.

"About _the_ _spy who loved you_." Tyrion said lengthening the last sound as if he relished in the agony of the air as it was used to say such treacherous words.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 11: Everyone has got a price**

"About _her_?" The king whispered frowning at Tyrion, but curious to know nonetheless. "What do you know about _her_?"

King Robert's eyes were darkly fixed upon the imp's, trying to decipher their dearest secrets, but the small-sized men's mind was far deeper and intricate than his. Tyrion was a chess-minded kind of man, a puppet master, while the king had always established his worth in terms of bravery and war.

"I know enough, your highness." Tyrion went on a lot more seriously than before. "You have to be extremely careful with her. She's beyond dangerous. Proof of it is what she's orchestrated tonight. That must've taken years of deep thinking, naught and vengeful forethought."

"I can see that." The king replied dryly.

"Anyway," Tyrion went on like the master story-teller that he was. "what I must reveal to you about her is that everyone has got a price. I, as a Lannister, know the experience from first hand: you can buy _absolutely anyone_ in the kingdom. And she's no exception."

"Are you suggesting" The king asked him mocking him. "that I should offer her money, properties or titles to her? For what reason? She's already harmed me and my honour."

"True." Tyrion went on with a smile on his face. "Usually one uses power and money to assure one's own stability by silencing that sort of threats _before_ they take place, but now that everybody knows about it, it seems obviously futile – but let me assure you, your highness, that I have a very good reason to suggest you that you repay her _dearly_. And I'm not speaking of vengeance."

"And why is that? Why should I reward such a treacherous _bitch_ instead of punishing her?" The king didn't really get it. He wasn't the smart kind of man and he was bothered by the idea in front of such a small man.

"Because, your highness," Tyrion went on calmly but with severity. "Marian's claim on the Iron Throne might _not_ be strong enough. Your two brothers will _not_ like this idea of yours of welcoming a _bastard_ girl whom you've never met as your legitimate heir. They will riot and turn against you… or _her_, the very second you die."

"You're right." The king admitted frowning. "Continue. I assume you have further suggestions."

"Exactly. It doesn't matter to whom you marry her – she'll still be a bastard daughter to you, which means that you have to _make_ her a legitimate daughter before you make her marry." Tyrion pointed out feeling amused.

"But you forget that I _already_ have." The king insisted. "A few minutes ago. You were present."

"Those words you've uttered won't mean a thing to your brothers, your highness. They will rebel all the same. You need something more… _radical_, let's say." Tyrion said with a naughty smile of his face. "Something which they _can't_ doubt and which you can make them witness _themselves_, with their very own eyes."

"What are you suggesting?" The king raised an eyebrow at him. The imp was genuinely interesting: he knew how to spark anyone's interest by playing the game and his movements ahead of yours.

"What I'm saying is that you should find your beloved, whorish spy and _propose_ to her instead of _punishing_ her." Tyrion said with joy.

The king broke into a fit of laughter. He couldn't help it. The imp was being too funny.

"Me?! _Marry the bitch_?!" The king exclaimed, laughing at him.

"Sign a document of ennoblement for her," Tyrion insisted. "marry her in a _bountiful_ celebration – don't forget to invite your brothers, of course – and that will automatically make Marian your _lawful_ heir and, therefore, a legitimate Queen in the future. Next, you will be free to marry her to a young noble lad of your choice, of course, who will become our future king without any fear that he'll be attacked or defied by any of your relatives, your highness. The stability of the kingdom is at stake. Otherwise, it means war."

"True, quite true…" The king seemed to seriously ponder on the imp's words. They made perfect sense.

"Should you dislike your then current spouse, you can always get rid of her… once you've got what you wanted, your highness. She is quite clever, and she might see through you that you're using her as a tool _again_, but she might be tempted to lead a life of luxury as a Queen of Westeros, which is what she had always wanted, remember? Temp her into believing that she's not only won the battle, but _also_ your heart. That should satisfy her greatly. Lie to her, and lie _well_. _Bribe_ her if it is necessary. Everyone has a price, your highness. And, as I've just said, should you abhor her later, you can always _dispose_ of her. You can either murder her or pay her a large sum of money to disappear. Either option will suit you perfectly, your highness."

The king seemed to be convinced by the way he thought about it. He hummed and stared at the imp's eyes. Tyrion smiled because he knew he had nailed it, and he really had. Not long after that, the king set him free. He gave him a document which granted his freedom and then Tyrion said he had decided to flee to Dorne, where he could die happy amongst whores and wine. And the king didn't complain about his choice, and therefore he let him go.

But there was still work to do: Jon was still present there, in the king's chambers, and the king was obviously far from pleased with him. Although he hadn't actually done anything to Marian (apart from kissing her and proposing to her), King Robert was still furious.

"Jon Snow," The king said with a high degree of formality and seriousness, standing high and mighty in front of Jon's kneeling frame. "I have decided your fate. You're obviously not getting knighted today… or ever. You will join the Night's Watch immediately, as it was originally planned for you. You shall never mention my daughter's name in your entire lifetime. I don't want people to think that you have had _any_ interaction with her. Guards," He called their attention. "you may set him free. And _you_, Jon Snow," He stared straight at him again as he spoke. "this is the price you get for your deeds. And if you try to sneak out and flee to Qarth, I'm gonna make sure you regret it. If the guards see you outside the city walls on your own, you'll be _shot and killed_ on the spot. Is that clear?! You've been warned. Your final destination is the Wall and Lord Stark will see to it _himself._ He will accompany you there later _today_. Pack your things. _Now_."

Jon was set free and the guards let him go out of the king's chambers unharmed and _unfollowed_ (they just went past him and made the other guards know about the king's orders to shoot the bastard if he tried to sneak out of Winterfell). There was no need to follow him or spy on him. He was a worthless little bit of shit staining the flawless profile of a noble family of Westeros, _again_.

Back into the old mess.

He was obviously in pain, but he knew it would end up like that: the Wall. Standing alone in the corridor, he softly caressed the marks that the ropes had left on the skin of his wrists as he thought about it all. In fact, he had envisioned the king beheading him at dawn for proposing to Marian.

Somehow and for some strange reason, Tyrion had omitted the part in which he had tried to reap her innocence – and the king would've certainly killed him for that. It was obvious that Tyrion had witnessed the whole thing. That little imp was a smart guy, and Jon wondered whether silencing that bit of information might be handy in the future from Tyrion's perspective. It was obvious that it was far from over. Jon felt as if he owed Tyrion or as if Tyrion owned him, as if he had successfully and silently put a price tag on Jon's head.

He went back to his chamber to pack his things, as the king had commanded, dragging his feet as if he was a dark, sad shadow of the young man he used to be.

As he closed the door behind him, he began to wonder how come fate chose to be so evil towards him. He couldn't take it anymore and released a frustrated whining sound from his mouth. His chest was heaving due to the tension, he was gritting his teeth, and finally his fists found a way to release all the accumulating frustration by clenching his fists and punching a thick wooden column which was standing by his bed. The huge, round hole he left there would be a reminder how much anger he had been forced to hold captive in his chest, but he didn't care. He had to leave to the Wall, so it didn't matter.

In the end, instead of packing his things, he sat on his bed and buried his face in his two hands. He tried to breathe evenly, slowly, successfully getting his beloved self-control back a few minutes later. Once he had chilled out a bit, he could only think of Marian and how much he was missing her already.

He just sighed a deep sigh and started packing his stuff.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A bit later, in the king's chambers…

Hours went by and no ravens came back with news. King Robert began to worry truly. In addition, Robb's nervousness increased as the minutes flew by and Lord Stark couldn't help but noticing his son's unsettling facial expression. Over the last few days, Lord Stark had noticed that Robb liked Marian very much, especially after saving his life during the wildling attack that awful, rainy day.

In the meantime, Lord Stark had been trying to make the king reconsider about Jon's fate.

"I won't reconsider, Stark!" The king yelled with ire, punching a large wooden table. "He's bastard! Are you suggesting that I should allow him to marry my daughter nonetheless?! Are you insane?!"

"He's _innocent_, your highness. He didn't know Marian was a princess." Lord Stark tried to calm the king down with a soft tone of voice.

"I don't care! I've had enough of people trying to ruin my reputation!" The king was so _fucking_ angry… "I shan't tolerate this anymore. And by the way, Stark, I'm surprised that you didn't send the lad off to the Wall before. He's of age and he's still roaming free around here. You should've sealed his fate long ago! What were you thinking? Trying to find a _cushy_ option for him to spare him from joining the Night's Watch?!"

Lord Stark didn't dare to reply bearing in mind that the king had had to endure a rough night full of unexpected news. He knew that the king was a fearful thing to behold when problems kept piling up instead of being solved immediately. Complaining any further about Jon's fate would only anger him more, and he didn't want that. It had never proved beneficial to anyone in the past.

But suddenly, King Robert stared at the young man in their company, Robb, as he himself was staring out the window, at the sky, checking for any coming ravens with a look of worry on his young features.

"No ravens come back… Our men aren't either." King Robert said with worry and dread. "I don't like this one bit. It's dawn already… And _no one_ has found her… Robb should set sail to Qarth immediately and find Marian. She might've been successful at finding a ship to carry her there."

At that, Robb snapped out. That came as a surprise.

"It's the most probable outcome." Lord Stark concluded sadly.

"Robb should convince her that she'll not be murdered, return with her to King's Landing, and marry her as soon as possible." The king said with determination.

'Marian shall be mine?!' Robb thought with unrivalled eagerness. 'The most adorable creature in this world will be mine by right… Dear Old Gods! She saved me and now _I will save her_!' His pupils trembled in anticipation, almost wondering whether that conversation was merely a dream. He glanced at his father as if he was begging him to accept the king's proposal at once.

"I'm flattered that you consider my son Robb as Princess Marian's groom and future king, your highness." Lord Stark formally replied. "Are you absolutely sure about it?"

"I'm serious, Stark." The king went on with pride. "Since my heir is female, I need a future king for her. And young Robb here seems more than just a valid option to me. He'll make a great king. I'll be honoured to have such a loyal, worthy son-in-law."

"Thank you, your highness. You do our family a great honour." Lord Stark said seriously and formally.

"May I speak, your highness?" Robb suddenly asked with bright eyes.

"You may, young man." The king gave him permission.

"I'd like to express my gratitude myself." Robb went on with badly contained joy. Both King Robert and Lord Stark smiled at him. "But I'd hate to lose any other second here when I should be packing my things and go find her. Therefore, I thank you a lot, but I express it briefly due to the current state of affairs. Shall I be excused then?"

"Go… _Just_ _go_, young man!" The king roared, smiling with pride at him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Robb left the king's chambers at once, rushing through the corridors as if he was a careless child. He slammed the door of his chamber open and started packing his things in a rush, but with such a degree of happiness that he had never experienced before.

Princess Marian was to be his, and _only_ _his_. As he had secretly hoped, Jon would never marry her. Her wonderful face was what he would see every day when he would wake up every morning and the last thing he would see when he would go to bed every night. They would get married and she would deliver his offspring to the world, which meant they would have to lie in bed together. Robb suddenly found himself frozen, standing at the feet of his bed and staring at the wall in front of him, as he pictured how she would taste like: her rosy lips, her delicate neck, her ample breasts, her nice waist and flat stomach, her…

Was it sinful to think of his future wife in those terms before wedlock? He chuckled at the thought and then he chanced to stare at the empty bed before him. At the beginning, he could only see his luggage half-way done on the bed; but in the end he started to mentally draw her naked outline on it… her long, dark hair undulating down her exposed shoulders, her slender legs coyly spread on the mattress as if he owned her already. Then, he leaned down on the feet of his bed and sank both his fists on either side, staring ahead of him like a predatory, hungry wolf. Next, instead of his pillow, he could only see her eyes glowing with the anticipation of soon experimenting something that only a man could provide her… that _he_ would provide her. He blushed revealingly at the flat mattress before him and couldn't help getting a hard-on.

_And she wasn't even there._

How powerfully could she cast a spell on him?

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"In the meantime, we shall look for the spy and make a deal with her to do as Tyrion has planned for us." King Robert went on as he talked to Lord Stark alone. "I'll convince her, I swear. I remember her well, and I know what she likes most. She's got a very fine taste, I must admit. But she likes expensive, _very_ expensive stuff. She'll be easily bribed. She would've made a fine wife if I had married her instead of that Lannister whore."

"Cersei's been a fool." Lord Stark said darkly.

"The bitch never let me touch her." The king added in the same dark tone of voice. "Her fine legs, her delicate and soft skin, her lush breasts… Good Old Gods, she was so _fucking_ hot and yet she had the worst personality in the kingdom! She raged over absolutely _anything_. Even when I softly caressed her golden locks… She was _so_ displeased with me _touching_ her, even though I adored her like a goddess. But she had always hated me, you know. You might think that the only few times I could _fuck_ her she was trying to use it as an excuse because she was already with child. Her twin's child." He was not exactly angry, but his eyes seemed lost in the remembrance of something he disliked a lot.

"That might be true." Lord Stark replied mechanically, not thrilled to know any intimate details about their relationship.

"The look of disgust on her face when I _came_ in her was priceless, though." He laughed at her expense darkly. He looked like a sad clown getting his revenge after too long, his laugh on the edge of a hysterical whimper which made Lord Stark uneasy. "I wonder what face she will make to me when I behead her!"

"She won't look pleased either, I suppose." Lord Stark was clueless about what to say and which tone to use.

"Anyway," The king sighed in the end, but he went on speaking as darkly as before. "I have some beheadings to carry out, and later two weddings to plan. Right after the executions, bring Lady Stark here with you. I need the fine taste of a woman in all this." Then he went on more joyfully. "They know what and how to handle this stuff… I want to impress my brothers. These two weddings must be the best they've ever attended to!" He exclaimed eventually, feeling a bit happier about the future.

"Very well, your highness."

"But don't tell your wife about our plan to murder my future wife." The king went on rather joyfully, as if he could joke over such dark matters. "It would only upset her. Women can't handle this stuff. _But you can keep a good secret, can't you, Stark?_"

After that, King Robert laughed wholeheartedly and patted his dear old friend's back. Lord Stark tried to smile but those last sentences had blown up his heart and had torn it into a thousand little pieces: he disliked both his backward perspective on women and the king's forced secrecy on him… because he didn't like secrets at all.

Such hard-core, despicable, high-priced, life-threatening secrets he seemed to know _too well_.

Lord Stark clenched his fists and his teeth in an attempt to conceal his inner fight. Luckily, King Robert didn't notice.

"Come, let's go." The king commanded. "It's time. And later, make sure whether Jon Snow is ready to depart. I want him gone."

And then, as if Providence had willed it so, Lord Stark had a brilliant idea which made him smile warmly, like he had done so many times before. The spark of life came back to him and he found the courage to speak boldly to his king like this:

"Your highness, I've just had a great idea." He said with confidence and warmth. "I think I've got the perfect plan to make Marian come back to Westeros."

"Dear Old Gods! Has Tyrion's spunk gotten into you, Stark? What is it, pray?"

"_Jon_ should actually go to Qarth to look for her alongside Robb. She'll trust him more than anyone else because he's always protected her. In addition, he's got _nothing_ to gain or lose. His fate is already sealed, isn't it?"

"Of course. I'm not changing my opinion." The king replied with no hesitation at all. "But, Stark, you're a pain in the ass sometimes. You don't know how bothersome you actually get when you insist on something…"

"I'm sure he'd accept it just to appease you, to make amends, let's say." Lord Stark insisted with care. "Give the lad a chance to impress you. He'd do anything."

"_'__Everybody has got a price'_, huh?" The king reminded Lord Stark of Tyrion's words with a naughty smile on his face. "Maybe Jon Snow's price is simply doing me a favour to calm my ire, right?"

"Let him go. Do it for me, Robert. Please." Lord Stark knew he was pushing it, but he was willing to risk his friendship over Jon's welfare. He even called the king by his name just to appeal to his kindness, to do it for him and their sacred friendship.

"Fair enough! OK… I consent! But _under no circumstances_ must he ever know that Robb's getting married to her. I don't want his jealousy playing a part in her rescue."

"Thank you very much, your highness."

"I should also send a raven to the nobility in Qarth, the Thirteen, explaining the current situation, don't you think?"

"Aye, your highness. Good thought."

"I need to convince them to find Marian and protect her for me, just in case."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In the meantime, far, far away from Winterfell, word had reached Lord Tywin Lannister that his children's fate had been roughly sealed by King Robert because Cersei had been unfaithful with her own twin brother. They would be beheaded soon and there was nothing that their dear old father could do to save them. On top of that, his youngest son, Tyrion, had made a deal with the king and he had fled to Dorne, neglecting his duties as his son and abandoning his siblings to die.

Lord Tywin Lannister tore the letter he had just received with the dreadful news and clenched his teeth. Then, as he stared out of the window of his private chambers, he swore he'd seek revenge on the blood of King Robert Baratheon at all costs. His grey hair and his wrinkled frown told a tale of how little time he might still have left to carry out such a plan, but he didn't care.

Money could work just as well as time.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Once Jon had finished packing the few things he needed, he went out of his room to tell Lord Stark that he was ready and he soon realised that almost everyone had gone to witness the execution of the Lannister traitors but for some guards up the city walls, who every now and then were eyeing suspiciously at him, lest Jon decided to take a chance and flee. The executions would soon take place.

He began to pace aimlessly around the courtyard, but he got bored and had no intention to go and witness the executions. He had seen some of them in the past, his father wielding the sword, and he loathed every single second of those experiences. That was why he went strolling to the godswood. The red-leaved sacred tree had brought peace to his mind in the past, and he thought it might do him good to try it once more.

'The last time I was here…' Jon thought with sadness as he softly brushed the surface of the tree's bark with his dark-gloved hand. The sad carved face of the tree felt like a bad omen to him, but ironically the tree might've thought the same of Jon's face, so sad and cold. '… I remember feeling grateful for having met Marian. My prospects were radically different. I would've been knighted. I would've married her. And now what? Could things actually worsen? _What will become of me_?'

Rhetorical as the questions were, he felt as though he _needed_ an answer in the same way that he needed air to breathe – and that was when a vague sense of weirdness began to settle in his head. Physically, he felt a burning sensation on the palm of the hand which was gently touching the bark of the tree, and he felt it spread to the rest of his body until his eyes went suddenly dark and his mind went blank. He couldn't help freezing on the spot and let that _strange_ _something_ take over him.

**"****Jon…" Marian's voice called out to him in a soft whisper, but she seemed worried. At the beginning, there was only darkness, but a dim light slowly crept into the scene until he could spot Marian's gentle features, outlined by the light of some candles. Her face was quite close to his when she added whispering: "Jon, you did it."**

**"****Do what?" He softly whispered back quite innocently as he stared at her lips.**

**He realised he was sitting on some sort of cold, big chair, and that she was sitting on his lap. She was dressed in a light pink summer dress with short sleeves, and she looked stunning in it. The weak light was cast on the scene, a large room with huge cream-coloured marble pillars. The floor was also made of cream-coloured marble, and in very good condition. The place was too quiet for some strange reason, and for a second he noticed he didn't know where he was exactly. That wasn't Winterfell. It felt radically ****_different_**** from Winterfell: it was larger, more opulent, and the temperatures were milder, gentler.**

**But then Marian leaned on his face and gently kissed his lips. He couldn't care less about the place they were. That was when he set the wolf in him free and took hold of her body with one hand and her nape with the other, deepening the kiss. It felt like the time Arya had been spying on them in the study room, pride-spurring and easy, escalating from soft and nice to hard and demanding. And the more she led him on, the rougher he was. His two-day beard brushed her soft skin, but she didn't seem to mind. She just held onto his broad shoulders and well-built chest, chiselled thanks to his training in sword fighting and sparring through his teen years. The more she nibbled his lower lip, the more he was losing his mind.**

**The scene was getting heated up bit by bit, until Marian broke the kiss to settle her body right in front of his, chaining her open legs to either side of his hips. They were not naked yet, but she softly began that good old rocking motion that ruled the biological world. At that moment, Jon would've died the happiest man that ever lived – until she decided to bring the next level on. With an unrivalled swiftness, somehow she got rid of her dress. The sleeves shamelessly fell down from her shoulders and gently slid down her arms, making the rest of the clothing fall apart – like Jon's self-control. Her exposed breasts were right in front of his face. She sighed her worries away then and, when the air expelled from her lungs reached his skin, he felt suddenly released from any moral chains that could've held him down. In the blink of an eye, he lunged onto her breasts and held her tightly to him with one arm. She moaned softly as a reply. In the meantime, his free arm was busy unfastening his trousers. He knew, somehow, that she was wet and ready for him. She smiled and gently hugged his head and began to play with his unruly curly hair.**

**"****I'm… ****_not_**** sorry, Marian." Jon whispered at her breasts. He meant to say the opposite, but he changed his mind as he began to speak.**

**"****What for?" She whispered back.**

**"****For ****_this_****."**

**And he ruthlessly pushed his manhood into her. She cried one lonely cry, but she got still right afterwards. She briefly trembled and let her head fall down on his hair as a thin trail of blood emerged from her and fell down on the chair in tiny little drops…**

**…****Like the trail of blood that was slowly creeping into the dim daylight on the marble floor towards them.**

**Blood.**

**First it was just a small trail. Jon somehow noticed there was something behind Marian, something a few feet away from them on the floor, veiled by the darkness, and he decided to look straight at it, at the slowly-flowing blood, ignoring Marian's breasts for some precious seconds.**

**In the meantime, Marian had recovered and began to rock her hips on his again. Sex felt like heaven to him, but he still felt the dread of something unknown. Between her gasps and moans, Jon saw how the small trail of blood slowly advanced towards them, growing thicker and thicker, staining the lovely cream-coloured marble floor. And the more he enjoyed fucking her, the more horrible the bloodstain on the floor became.**

**And then he saw it.**

**In the shadows lay a dead body, with Jon's sword vertically sinking on the corpse's flesh, right onto the dead, middle-aged man's chest. The smell of his flowing, thick blood was sickening, but Marian didn't seem to care: she was enjoying sex with wild abandonment.**

**"****Jon, ****_you_**** did it…" Marian repeated her previous words, whispering freely between moans.**

**Out of nowhere, she took her good old dagger (he didn't know where she had taken it from), put it in his right hand, clasping her hands around his, and next she aimed the tip at her delicate, porcelain-like neck – and then, when a drop of her blood ran down the blade, Jon gasped of horror.**

He snapped out of it.

Jon was still frozen, standing with one of his hands on the bark of the godswood in Winterfell. Some seconds flew by and he couldn't understand one bit of what had actually happened to him.

'What the _fuck_ was that?' He thought as he grew paler and paler. 'Was it a dream? But I wasn't even sleeping! It can't be!'

Suddenly afraid of the red-leaved sacred tree, he retrieved his hand and walked away in a rush, not daring to look back.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Not long after the massive decapitation of Lannisters, the king wrote a heartfelt message to the nobility of Qarth, the Thirteen, explaining the current state of affairs. Marian was depicted as the most precious jewel in the world alongside the main details of her personal life, including the fact that a bunch of lies which certain ginger-haired spy had told her had poisoned her opinion of her real, biological father. He appealed to their goodness and humbly begged them to take care of her and protect her from any harm until two representatives would come to Qarth to fetch her. He even ventured to promise a tighter commercial relationship between both, bearing in mind that the people there were expert traders with a fixation with progress and hoarding gold and coin.

Lord and Lady Stark entered the king's chambers and started planning the two weddings right after devising a plan to find the ginger-haired spy to deliver her a powerful, heartfelt message and a huge bag of coins in gold as proof of the king's good faith to restore her love for him. A group of his personal guards took care of managing to get to her and deliver the letter and the gold.

In the meantime, Jon had been told about the change of plans, but he didn't let hope settle in his heart for long. Yes, he would see her again, but his final destination would be the Wall nonetheless, as originally planned for him. He made no mistake in believing he would eventually get a reprieve. That trip to Qarth was an exception, maybe a test of some sort.

Jon eyed suspiciously at Robb as they rode on horseback, but none said a single word. Both Robb and Jon had already set out to Ramsgate to board on a ship which would take them to Qarth. They hoped the tide would carry them fast enough to land on its shores in the afternoon.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

When the Marian arrived in Qarth not long after dawn, a raven had already arrived before her. She could tell by the large amount of guards invading the docks and the full display of the nobility of Qarth standing there as if they were receiving someone important. Her heart started to race madly and her face got paler and paler. Was it all for her? Would they apprehend her and imprison her? Or send her back to Westeros, to the king who fathered her and who wanted her dead?

She frowned at the orange sky before her, but her countenance was firm and noble. The cool breeze of dawn combed her dark hair gently. She instantly knew she couldn't escape, so she decided to act as bravely as she could and plead for mercy. And beg to see her father, of course – her _adoptive_ father, that is. She still needed to cure him… And she would also cure the rest of the men who had fallen ill due to that horrid, unknown illness if they _let_ her.

Could she use her medical knowledge to bail herself out of the threat on her life? Yes, she hoped she could trade her life for the cure to save an entire nation. They needed her and her knowledge. They would see that soon enough. She needed to be strong enough before the nobles and make them believe she would mean a great loss if they decided to either kill her or hand her over to a ruthless king who had murdered his own bastard children.

That was why she didn't play the coy girl, she just bravely stood before the ramp that the sailors had put right after they had arrived and secured the ship to the docks. When she decided to come down, the nobles greeted her in such a formal manner that she was left speechless. They were acting politely, even the guards didn't seem to be ready to attack her. She didn't see that one coming: she expected more aggressiveness on their behalf.

As she walked down the ramp, they were bowing to her and smiling gently at her, as if she was one of them. She knew that bastards in Qarth had a different status than in Westeros, but that didn't mean that she counted as a real princess. She knew she had no power and no right to claim the Iron Throne. But Lord and Lady Sunnyhap, a noble couple ruling in Qarth alongside the rest of the Thirteen, seemed to respect her as if she was even more powerful than them.

"Princess Marian Baratheon, we salute you." Lady Sunnyhap began formally, but nicely. She wore a thin, orange silk dress with short sleeves. Her gold earrings were huge and jingling as she spoke. Her lush dark hair was pinned up in a loose bun. "Did you have a nice journey?"

"My name is Marian Bluegin, daughter of Doctor Bluegin." Marian insisted quite distantly, not sure how to react, but she wanted to leave things clear. "I assume you've been told the truth about my biological parentage, but let me assure you I am not interested in…"

"Your father, the king, has written to us in a hurry." Lady Sunnyhap went on with kindness. Her smile was genuine, like that of a mother to her child. "It seems that you've been misled."

"Misled?" Marian asked feeling lost, frowning. Were they joking at her?

"He's told us the truth: that a woman has revealed only half the truth to you." Lord Sunnyhap explained to her. He was a well-built, middle-aged man with dark, curly hair and a nice nose. "You need to calm down. The king has warned us that you'd feel threatened because of what that woman had told you. There is, in fact, no threat on your life. Quite the contrary. My wife and I, along with the rest of the Thirteen, will take care of you. We're happy to have you with us."

And with one of their most gentle smiles they told her the whole story. They even showed the king's letter to her. Marian was left at a loss of words: she was far too amazed to believe it.

Did the king really want her alive to make her a future queen of Westeros?

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"But you don't understand!" Marian exclaimed trying to convince Lord and Lady Sunnyhap to release her. They had taken her to their palace and they pushed her to stay there using one excuse after the other, as if they were procrastinating something. They were talking in their private dining room, a luxurious place decorated in gold and red. "I need to see my adoptive father. He needs me more than ever! I've developed a cure that will save him… all the rest of the ill men in Qarth! _I can't lose a single minute_!"

"Princess Marian," Lady Sunnyhap addressed her with a soothing voice and hooded eyes. She knew there was no way out and she sighed. No more procrastinating, then. "we have bad news to lay on you. Your father, I mean, doctor Bluegin died a fortnight ago."

"_WHAT_?!" Marian exclaimed, feeling suddenly dizzy.

Right after having exclaimed that, Josua was led into the dining room they were in. Lord and Lady Sunnyhap knew they would need the help of a familiar face around Princess Marian. Josua entered in a rush right after being briefly announced. Marian turned around to face the newcomer and was thunderstruck to see no other than her childhood friend. She recognised his mildly well-build chest, his short, auburn hair, the warmth in his eyes, his gentle smile, and the small dimple in his chin.

"Josua!" Marian exclaimed with joy at the sight of him.

"Marian!"

They rushed to one another. Josua hugged her as if he would never let her go.

"Thank the Old Gods you're fine." He whispered visibly affected to her, his arms almost crushing her. "I can't believe my ears. They tell me you're the princess of Westeros! Is it true?"

Lord and Lady Sunnyhap were glad that she had finally found someone who she fully trusted, someone with whom she could share her grief.

"We shall leave you alone for some minutes." Lord Sunnyhap said, excusing their absence for some minutes. "We need to write back to King Robert to let him know you're safe and sound, with us, on behalf of the Thirteen."

"No! Please, don't tell him!" Marian was scared that the king would lie to everyone just to satiate his thirst for her blood. She still didn't believe the new version of the story. "I don't want him to know."

"But why, little dove?" Lady Sunnyhap didn't understand.

"I don't trust him." Marian replied darkly.

"You have no reason to doubt him, believe him when he says he wants you to be the princess." Lord Sunnyhap added with softness. "We know him more than you do. We trust him. Therefore, you should trust him as well."

They didn't wait for her to answer back and instead they exited the dining room to go to an adjoining guest room to write back to King Robert.

"I can see you're being treated like a real queen here. You deserve it." Josua said when he saw the amount of food and new clothes spread out on a couch beside her.

Those had been some Lady Sunnyhap's strategies to avoid telling Marian the awful news of doctor Bluegin's passing. She even convinced Marian to try out some of them, just to make sure the measurements were correct – and they were. Marian looked stunning in that light pink silk dress with short sleeves. It fit her perfectly. The cloth danced in unison with her curves, so much so that Josua couldn't take his eyes from her, spellbound by her beauty.

"Don't put your faith in this." Marian replied darkly. "I'm not believing a word of it. It's a trap."

"Don't be so untrusting, Marian… I mean, _Princess_ Marian." Josua replied hesitating. He wasn't used to using titles during conversation. Plus, he had never spoken to a princess before.

"If you address me by this _stupid_ title again, I'll kick your ass." She said defiantly.

"Rogue as usual, _huh_?" Josua raised an eyebrow at her comment, but then he got serious: "We're not kids anymore. You shouldn't speak like that, _Princ_-"

"Don't you dare!" She shot back at him, but she soon chilled out and spoke seriously again. "I know we're not kids anymore, Josua. Therefore, you shouldn't believe all this _bullshit_. I _know_ that the king wants to kill me. This second version of the story is a distraction. I'm sure of it."

"Nonsense."

"Westeros is a dangerous place full of dangerous people." She replied seriously.

"You're in Qarth now. Chill out." Josua tried to calm her, to no avail.

"I'm not chilling out. Lord and Lady Sunnyhap won't let me out. These guards have orders not to let me out." She insisted feeling extremely nervous, but she didn't let the volume of her voice give her away. "Wake up! I'm being kidnapped here, Josua. Will you help me or not?"

"Relax, Marian, please. You're being delusional… _hysterical_, even. Look, I should talk to you about your father… I mean, doctor Bluegin."

The mention of him send Marian a wave of memories and she began to cry.

"What of him?" She managed to say.

"They've already told you that he died, haven't they?" He said softly but sadly.

"Yes, they have." She whispered at him, trying to regain her strength. "Do you know any details about it? They seemed to be ready to tell me when you entered."

"I wasn't there all the time, but he regretted seeing you go when you set sail to Westeros. He had read all your letters and hopelessly cried over them. You broke his heart."

"And he broke _mine_!" She yelled back at him in anger. "Besides, I've developed the cure that he needed so badly. I said I'd do it _and I did_ _it_. I could've saved him."

"I don't doubt that. You're as stubborn as he was. But, _hey_… he'd be proud of you."

"Did he reconsider disowning me in the end?" She asked, afraid to know the answer.

"He did. The house and the lands are yours. I managed to convince him. I've taken care of the paperwork, don't worry."

"I'm not worried about that." She thought about Jon then. And the king, too. There was a lot she needed to think about. "That raven has delivered a bunch of lies. That's what they do, the people of Westeros! _Tell lies_. I know that for a fact. Very few of them actually are _good_ people… The king wants to see me dead. I'm a _bastard_ daughter. They treat bastards _awfully_ there. _You have no idea_! He's going to _kill_ me if they hand me over to him! _You have to believe me_!"

"Marian, I insist, relax. King Robert is _positively_ interested in you. He's said that you're the _one and only_ heir to the Iron Throne. Or so they told me."

"Then, tell me," She went on with anger. "what has happened to the _three legitimate kids_ that he's got? Have they vanished into thin air, perhaps?! One of them is the heir, _male_ heir. What has happened to him?"

"I don't know. No one has told me anything about them." He acknowledged.

"See? They lie!" She replied in a rush, losing it. "King Robert already has a _lawful_ heir! And a _male_! Why does he want me so _badly_ then?! Can't you see it makes no sense?! And if he _really_ needs me, it must be because those children are dead. Only the Old Gods know what may have become of them in my absence! I saw them at dinnertime yesterday and they were perfectly _fine_. Have they been killed too? Tell me Josua, _can't you see that these people are nuts_?!"

Her reasoning made him hesitate and frown deeply all of a sudden. But she went on:

"At the end of the letter, the king even promises more commercial interactions with Qarth. If you read between the lines, that's the price on my head, Josua."

At that, he swallowed hard. They were staring deeply into each other's eyes when Lord and Lady Sunnyhap returned.

"The king will soon read our letter." Lord Sunnyhap said in a happy mood. "He'll be thrilled to know you are safe, Princess Marian."

"Shall I be excused? I would like to go home now." Marian added seriously.

"But you can't leave the palace, little dove." Lady Sunnyhap replied with worry. "Your old house isn't fit for a princess! Stay here with us until the representatives of your father, the king, arrive."

"_No_, I'm not staying here." Marian insisted daringly. "I want to go back home. Josua will take me there, right? So if you'll excuse me…"

"I insist, Princess Marian." Lord Sunnyhap didn't waste a second. "Don't leave the premises. You have no need to rush anywhere. We can have your personal objects delivered to your chambers if you need anything, Princess Marian."

"You don't _want_ to let me go. Why is that?" Marian asked boldly.

"A palace like this is the only roof which deserves such a noble head like yours, Princess Marian." Lady Sunnyhap answered formally, but with joy.

"I don't approve of this." Marian commented harshly.

"You shall." Lord Sunnyhap replied with determination. "Don't make us regret the use of force."

"You can't be serious!" Marian said amazed. She began to fear the worst was coming.

"Your father insisted on your stubbornness." Lord Sunnyhap added then with a frown. "I can clearly see why he was so worried."

"What?! He's _not_ worried about me!" Marian yelled back with wounded pride.

"Don't speak like that about the king, young lady." Lord Sunnyhap shot back at her like an annoyed father. "He's your father now. You shall wait in your chambers for his representatives to come here to fetch you, and you will do so _peacefully_."

"And yet I assume my chambers will be heavily guarded." Marian added darkly.

"Of course, just to make sure no one can harm you." Lady Sunnyhap replied with worry.

"Don't patronize me. I know I'm part of a deal you have with him." Marian wanted to cards on the table. Now. "But I can _also_ make deals."

"A deal?" Lord Sunnyhap asked her raising an eyebrow. The word 'deal' was a sacred word in Qarth.

"Yes, I offer you the cure I've developed in exchange of my freedom." Marian said with seriousness. "Tell the king I've escaped and that I'm lost, that I've run away to the desert, that I've died. I don't really care about the excuse."

"You must be joking." Lady Sunnyhap replied amazed.

"I'm not. Is that your answer? Be smart. You can save a lot of innocent people thanks to my knowledge."

"Yes, we will save a lot of people thanks to your knowledge." Lord Sunnyhap answered in a rush.

"I'm glad to see that you accept my offer." Marian said smiling.

"Oh, no. We're not accepting your offer." Lord Sunnyhap replied also smiling. "We've already taken the cure and your notebooks."

"And you're going to Westeros when those the king's representatives come to fetch you." Lady Sunnyhap added.

"WHAT?!" Marian exclaimed frustrated, clenching her fists. "You can't do that to me! NO! You're despicable and cruel! How dare you patronize me like that?!"

"There's no deal and no patronizing going on, little dove." Lady Sunnyhap tried to convince Marian, but it was useless. "You don't need to get _aggressive_ either."

"Then let me be." Marian concluded. "I shall not _bother_ anyone for the rest of my life. Just let me go."

"We can't. Your safety is at stake." Lord Sunnyhap replied seriously. "Now, I think you need to rest. Sleeping in your chambers will calm you down."

"You say _chambers_, I say _prison cell_." Marian corrected him with mild arrogance.

"Don't be so harsh on us. We only want what's best for you, little dove." Lady Sunnyhap answered feeling wounded.

"These guards will lead you to your chambers." Lord Sunnyhap added right after his wife, commanding two guards to do his bidding with a single swing of a hand.

"There's no need to, m'lord, m'lady." Josua interrupted their conversation speaking quite formally, but daringly. "I'll escort her myself, if you let me. I'll try to appease her to the best of my abilities."

"What are you talking about?!" Marian whispered back at him, annoyed.

"Go along with me, Marian." Josua whispered back seriously, trying not to be heard by anyone but her and grabbing her right arm with his left hand.

"Thank you very much, young man." Lord Sunnyhap replied in a happy tone, which was a nice change, but he didn't change his discourse. "You may walk her to her chambers, but the guards will come with you, just in case."

"Very well, m'lord." Josua finally added. "And thank you for taking care of Princess Marian. She's a dear childhood friend of mine and I'd hate to see her treated roughly."

"You're welcome, young man." Lord Sunnyhap replied with a dry smile on his face.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

While Marian and Josua were walking along the corridors quite leisurely, two guards were following them. They had spears and swords, while Josua and Marian only had their wits.

"Have you got a plan, Josua?" Marian asked him whispering.

"No, I don't." He replied also whispering.

"Great." She replied feeling disappointed. "For a second I thought you were onto something. Now what?"

"Nothing. I'm leading you to your chambers." He concluded seriously.

"What? As simple as that?" She was dumbfounded. "Are you deserting me?!" She asked feeling he was betraying her, too.

"No, of course I'm not leaving you to fight on your own… but…" He insisted annoyed.

"But what?!" She pushed him.

"I need time." He replied after sighing once.

"Time for what? To come up with a plan?" She asked hoping that he'd bail her out of that one.

"I need to talk with Lord and Lady Sunnyhap, _alone_." He insisted seriously.

"You need what?! You…" She replied offended. "you don't want me to be there. Why?"

They had arrived at their destination, so they had to stop walking. The door leading to her chambers was right by their side and the two guards stood on either side of it, keeping a close watch over the two young adults.

"I want to test their story, to see if it cracks. And I can't do it if you're there distracting me." Josua answered with determination, his eyes suddenly fixed on hers.

"Distracting you? But…" Marian whispered, hesitating.

Right after that, Josua leaned on her and kissed her on her lifts, softly, only once.

"I haven't forgotten, Marian." He whispered, still very close to her face. "I'm not gonna lose you… _twice_."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary**: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC

**Disclaimer**: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Previously…**

"I need to talk with Lord and Lady Sunnyhap, _alone_." He insisted seriously.

"You need what?! You…" She replied offended. "you don't want me to be there. Why?"

They had arrived at their destination, so they had to stop walking. The door leading to her chambers was right by their side and the two guards stood on either side of it, keeping a close watch over the two young adults.

"I want to test their story, to see if it cracks. And I can't do it if you're there distracting me." Josua answered with determination, his eyes suddenly fixed on hers.

"Distracting you? But…" Marian whispered, hesitating.

Right after that, Josua leaned on her and kissed her on her lifts, softly, only once.

"I haven't forgotten, Marian." He whispered, still very close to her face. "I'm not gonna lose you… _twice_."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 12: Burning**

That same afternoon, while Josua was having a long, nice chit-chat with Lord and Lady Sunnyhap, a second ship from Westeros had almost arrived. The silhouettes of two young men leaned on the side of the ship observing the skyline and outlined by the orange rays of that warm afternoon sun. Their wintry clothing had to be removed, because the weather in Qarth was much warmer, and their exposed, well-built arms could bask in the gentle, lively sunrays. The sea was gently rocking the ship as it slowly approached its final destination.

"Qarth is beautiful! A lot more than I could've ever imagined!" Robb exclaimed with joy. "Maester Luwin was quite mistaken. He said it was a great city, but this looks like _paradise itself_ to me. Look at the sun! Have you ever seen a sun like _this_?"

"The temperatures are much warmer." Jon said dryly, as though he could never be happy again.

"_Warmer_ than you at least, brother." Robb replied with sarcasm, but he went on as happy as before. "Why are you so gloomy anyway? You got a temporary reprieve. You should enjoy it."

"I'll bear that in mind." Jon answered as dryly as before, not daring to look straight at him.

Jon was acting weirdly to his brother because he was aching inside. Even though he was hopelessly in love in Marian and seeing her one more time was the only reason that kept him alive, Jon wasn't sure whether later he'd dare to abandon her and leave for the Wall. On top of that, he had overheard the worst rumour that his ears could've ever heard: rumour had it that Robb was to marry her. It didn't strike him as odd, but the pain he felt was like a thousand thorns stinging his tender flesh.

'Once I leave and join the Night's Watch,' Jon thought with sadness. 'I don't think I'll dare to show my face around her anymore. The sight of her with another man would kill me on the spot. I don't think I could outlive that. I love my brother, but I don't think I can take this. I'm afraid of what I could do. If I lose my mind, I'll lose my head too – by an axe or a sword.' He thought as his right hand unconsciously was shot to the spot where her sea shell necklace with his silver ring was hidden beneath his clothing. It was cleverly concealed because he didn't want anyone to know he had a token of her love.

They were about to descend to the docks when a large amount of guards welcomed Robb and Jon. They looked imposing and tense, and both Jon and Robb didn't like it one bit.

"Good afternoon." The captain of the guard said sternly. He was taller and more well-built than either Jon or Robb, and he had an aura of pain and death around him that couldn't be well described. "Are you King Robert Baratheon's representatives?"

"Yes, we are." Robb replied boldly, without delay or hesitation. "I'm Robb Stark, Lord Stark eldest son. And this is my brother, Jon Snow."

"Very well." His voice felt like a brand new leather belt: coarse, thick and hard. "On behalf of the Thirteen, welcome to _the greatest city that ever was or will be_. Now, follow me."

They did as told even though they had a feeling that there was something weird going on.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Not long after that, Robb and Jon were received by Lord and Lady Sunnyhap in the same room in which both of them were talking to Josua about Marian's welfare. The luxury displayed in the décor and the furniture was striking and exotic. Naturally, the style was radically different from the mainstream taste in Westeros or the North, which made it all the more jaw-dropping.

Their arrival had already been announced when all of a sudden the guards opened a huge double door to a marble room for both of them. They were made to enter although they wondered where they were exactly. Large, semi-transparent straps of multi-coloured fine silks were hanging from different parts of the room. Jon immediately thought of Marian's dancing dress… and he swallowed hard, trying not to bring back too many unforgettable memories from that heated night in Winterfell's brothel. There were large windows on either side, through which the soft breeze blew and made those drapes float aimlessly from one side to the other. And then they saw them, Lord and Lady Sunnyhap and a mysterious young man seated on a couple of pure white chaise longues.

"Welcome, dear friends from Westeros." Lady Sunnyhap began with joy, her golden earrings jingling. "You must be Robb Stark and Jon Snow. Please, come in and sit down with us. This is Josua, a childhood friend of Princess Marian."

They saluted each other formally and started talking amiably, but the more agreeable they tried to be to one another, the less they achieved it – or so thought Jon. He was anxious to see Marian, to check whether she was fine. He was desperate for her to know they would never try to kill her, as the ginger spy had told her.

One detail sparked their curiosity, though. The fine, thin silks of Lord and Lady Sunnyhap caught both Robb and Jon's attention a great deal, and they wondered what type of clothing Marian would be wearing.

In the meantime, somehow, Josua kept looking at them suspiciously bearing in mind Marian's doubts as regards the king's intentions. On top of that, those two strangers were both quite attractive. Josua had expected the representatives of the king to be middle-aged men whom the king would trust with his life, not two ragingly-hot young men who might not think twice about what they say or do.

However, Robb and especially Jon couldn't help but wonder if that handsome young man before them was _only_ her friend. She never mentioned anyone special in her life back in Qarth, but that didn't mean that she didn't have any friends back home… or _gorgeous suitors_. In spite of that sudden spark of mutual jealousy, Robb wasn't particularly worried because he was to marry her, Jon knew he shouldn't be worried because she couldn't ever be his, and Josua _did_ worry a lot because he knew they would take her away like it or not unless she could find a way to break free. He could feel it in the determination in their eyes.

"Where is Marian? We'd love to see her." Robb insisted with keenness.

"Bearing in mind the circumstances in which she left you, no wonder that you want to." Lady Sunnyhap concluded with a warm smile, like a dear mother. "I would also be worried. Relax, it's over now. Marian is currently having some rest. Those ill-meant news shattered her grip on her personal situation as much as the news that her adoptive father, doctor Bluegin, died a fortnight ago. We must admit that she's been through a lot lately."

"What?!" Both Jon and Robb exclaimed in unison.

"I'm afraid that she arrived too late." Lord Sunnyhap added sadly. "She might've been successful in her quest to develop a cure, but she arrived too late to save him."

"Has she been disowned then?" Jon asked with sadness and worry.

"No, I interfered in the matter." Josua replied seriously. "I convinced her father not to do so, and to have faith that she'd return soon. Anyway, now I know this seems irrelevant bearing in mind that she's a princess and the only heir of the Iron Throne."

"Irrelevant indeed." Lord Sunnyhap agreed. "She's got a much brighter future ahead of her."

Josua was surprised to know that Jon, a bastard, knew about her personal situation back home. He wondered how much he knew about her and whether it would prove dangerous for her.

"She'll realise of it soon, I hope." Lady Sunnyhap added right after her husband. "She's been quite hysterical and stubborn ever since she's arrived this morning."

"Hysterical and stubborn?" Robb asked raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"She doesn't trust us or King Robert Baratheon." Lord Sunnyhap answered a bit sadly. "She still believes he wants to kill her and that we will see to that, trading her off to you, the king's representatives."

At that, Josua felt a pang in his heart, because he still hesitated himself, but he didn't reveal the doubts he had in his heart.

"Anyway," Lady Sunnyhap added then. "we thought it might be best for her to have some rest. Maybe some sleep might help her to see things more clearly afterwards."

"Good thinking, Lady Sunnyhap." Robb replied with gratitude. "And we thank you a lot for your concern. I do hope she'll soon see your good intentions and thank you for them."

Lady Sunnyhap was beyond flattered with Robb's gentle words. She loved when gorgeous, young men addressed her like that.

"She's usually restless." Jon suddenly intervened in the conversation with a husky, dark voice. "She might try something, she's got a mind as sharp as a blade. Are her chambers guarded?"

"All doors and windows are, in fact." Lord Sunnyhap replied with pride.

Jon simply nodded in approval. He didn't want her to run away now that he was so close to seeing her again. However, Josua took that comment the wrong way, thinking that Jon was implying that it was best if she was being guarded, because that way they didn't have to worry if she tried to escape. That would also make it easier for them because they might have orders to bring her back alive to kill her there, in Westeros, or they would probably kill her there, in Qarth: why wait if they could do it right there and then? He suspected their formality and their questions.

At long last, Lord and Lady Sunnyhap invited them all to have dinner with them, hopefully including Princess Marian's presence. At that idea, Jon's heart skipped a beat and his cheeks blushed a bit. Robb smiled broadly and accepted their suggestion. And Josua, who also accepted quite politely, just played the role of a good, happy-go-merry, old friend. He needed to see what those two young men were hiding.

The guards tensed as Robb and Jon rose from their chaise longue – and both noticed it and frowned lightly. They weren't planning anything weird or harmful, and yet the guards seemed to mistrust them all the time.

The sun had already set and Marian refused to have dinner with them. Maybe if she had been told that those two representatives of the king actually were Robb and Jon, she would've decided otherwise, but the servants didn't mention their names to her. Her fears of being poisoned or drugged overpowered her mind right before she slammed the door on the servants' faces.

Not long after dinner, Josua managed to excuse himself from the table and went straight to visit Marian in her chambers. He went to the back garden and walked unseen behind the bushes and trees until he spotted her balcony. Luckily, he was a good climber and the guards didn't spot him when he climbed to her balcony.

"Marian!" He whispered to her, softly knocking on the glass pane of the balcony door. "Are you awake?"

"Yes, I am." She whispered back at him as she opened the door to let him in. She blew the candles out just in case. "What are you doing here? How did you manage to climb the balcony unseen? Could you find any flaws in their story? Who are the king's representatives?"

"_Wow_… Go easy on me. One at a time, Marian."

"Tell me! Please!" She whispered impatiently.

"First of all, I'm an expert climber. Don't you remember?" He started answering her questions in proper order.

_Oh, yes_. She remembered.

She perfectly remembered how he had sneaked into her room and left a nice bouquet of thyme on her desk – and a love note. She blushed a bit as she recalled that moment.

"Secondly, I couldn't find any flaws in their story, but I'm still suspecting." He went on sternly. "Their guards keep a _close_ _watch_ on everyone. The king's representatives ask far too many questions. I don't trust them. And they don't seem to trust the guards here. Honestly, something's in their minds. I don't know what, but I'll find out soon."

"OK… But we don't have much time left." She insisted feeling nervous. "They might want to bring me back to Westeros tomorrow morning."

"That I don't know. I could be. They wouldn't say."

"Pity. Anyway, who are they?" She asked with curiosity, although she thought she might probably not know them at all.

"One is Robb Stark, heir of Winterfell." Josua told her casually.

"Robb?" She asked positively amazed. "He's here?!"

"You sound thrilled. Do you know him?" He asked her raising an eyebrow at her. He didn't like her reaction one bit due to his growing jealousy.

"Yes! He's…" She said in earnest, straightaway. "He's a good young man. He would _never_ harm me."

"OK – maybe the king's letter told us the truth and the spy you talked to actually lied. If the king sent him after you, and you trust him _fully_, that is."

"I do." She replied not losing a second.

Josua nodded right when the pang of jealousy got more and more intense.

"And the other one is…" She insisted.

"_Oh_, the other is his bastard brother, Jon Snow. Funny they should send a bastard on such a delicate quest to get you back. I heard they treat bastards awfully there."

At that, Marian's eyes glowed with unmatched joy.

"Jon…" She could only whisper Jon's name in some sort of weird ecstasy, dragging the vowel with her tongue as if it was the most delicious thing in the world. Josua stared blankly at her reacting like that. She had never uttered his own name like that – in his opinion, it was on the edge of sinful. Then, the jealousy piling up in his heart overflowed his system and he burst out whispering as if he couldn't believe it:

"You… _like_… him."

She suddenly realised the accidental inconvenience of the moment. Even though she loved Jon and she was hopelessly being honest about it, it didn't automatically mean that she should share the knowledge with Josua bearing in mind that he was still in love with her. She needn't be so cruel. He was staring at her and hoping she would deny it when, softly biting her lower lip, she hesitated for a couple of seconds with her lips parted before giving him an answer, which in itself it was enough proof not only that she liked him, but also that she loved him truly.

"Josua," She began speaking softly then. "you've always been a good friend and a good match. I'm not going to deny that, but I've always treated you just like a friend, nothing more. I've never promised anything beyond that to you. Tell me if my father – _adoptive_ father, I mean – ever promised you anything. Be honest."

"He never did, although I heard both my father and yours softly 'joke' about it once, a long time ago. Nothing harmful, I swear."

"Josua, I'm not going to pretend that I'm oblivious about it. I know you've had many chances to get engaged to a better-suited bride than me in the last few years."

He got paler when she softly said that, because it was true. His father had introduced him to a dozen girls, or more. He didn't keep track of the number any more.

"Your father tried very hard to find a replacement ever since we were kids:" Marian went on with serenity. "you were hooked on me so badly that he feared you'd want to marry no one else. That's why he took you abroad with him and seduced you into trading and learning more and more. It didn't hurt me the way he expected. He actually thought I was fuelling your love for me, but I never did. My father told me about it straight in the face once: he told me that your father had spoken about the matter to him, telling him that he shouldn't be offended (or _I _shouldn't be at least) if he chose some other, loaded or well-established girl to become your wife. But my father knew better. He knew I had never been interested in you like _that_. And he had never pushed your father into accepting any sort of engagement deal for the two of us. Ever."

"I didn't know that."

"But you _should_." She went on as softly as before. "And you should choose a girl whom you like yourself. Your father doesn't seem to know you very much. Being such a successful tradesman, I assumed he always got the gist of the people he met – but he didn't get mine. _I'm not a gold digger_."

"I appreciate your honesty." He said formally.

"Don't be so formal towards me, Josua." She replied with a warm smile.

"I don't know what to say." He said with too much honesty and blushing a bit. Luckily, since it was dark already, she didn't notice it.

"I'm sorry, Josua. I'm sorry if I led you on. I was clueless about it until the day I packed my things and set sail to Westeros."

"I know. I was too blind to see it myself." He said sadly.

"You don't need to be sad. It's what you needed so that you can move on now." She said with hope.

"I know." He chuckled and shook his head lightly. "And now that you're a princess, I'm just too below your station to ask you to marry me either."

"I don't want to be princess and you know it." She added with cheek.

"As if you had a choice." He said seriously. "They won't let you stay in Qarth now that you're the only heir."

"I know."

"And bearing in mind that the king has sent Robb and Jon, whom you know so well and you trust," He was aching inside as he said those words. "I don't think they're going to kill you, Marian. That's obvious by now. They need you. You'll be loved and hailed like never before. You should be thrilled about it, actually."

"I'm still suspicious."

"Why are you so stubborn?" He insisted frowning.

"I'm not stubborn. I've got a hunch, that's all."

"Your hunches have carried you far away and kept you safe and sound so far. So I'm not going to question them." He made a brief pause and then he went on. "You should probably talk to them, the sooner the better. Since Robb is the lawful son, he is the best-suited candidate to know key, confidential stuff. If I were in your shoes, I'd try to speak with him first – _aside_. Don't consent to anything before you discover where this hunch of yours is headed to."

"Send him here, then, please. I shall talk to him immediately."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

When Josua told Robb that Marian wanted to see him, Jon felt a sudden pang of jealously. He thought she would want to see him, not his brother. But he wondered why, and as usual he understood that Marian's analytical mind was sure of what she was doing. But Lord and Lady Sunnyhap noticed Jon's sudden attempt at concealing his true feelings – and they didn't like that one bit. Lady Sunnyhap in particular had a very fine nose to smell unrequited love or forbidden affairs. That was why, when Josua sat down at the dinner table beside them once more, they started chatting about how lovely and charming Robb Stark was.

"He's such a good match, isn't he?" Lady Sunnyhap commented with coyness while a feeble sigh escaped through her lips. She looked like a wild teenager. "He's everything a young woman _desires_. How _lucky_ Princess Marian is!"

Her words served a specific purpose, and everybody at the table knew it, including Jon. Nevertheless, his attempts at shielding his heart from the pain were good enough – but of course they didn't sate Lady Sunnyhap's hunger for more.

"I wonder, my dear husband, should we allow the guards to rest while Robb's in her chambers?" Lady Sunnyhap loved mischief and love affairs. She liked her life hot and reckless, and she didn't hesitate in assuming that the rest would like it the same way.

"My dear wife…" Lord Sunnyhap replied giggling a bit with naught. "They aren't married yet."

"Oh, they will soon enough." She shot back with pride as she took a brief sip of her cup of wine. "I don't need King Robert to tell me so. I have a good nose to smell that sort of things. Besides, who would she like better than Robb? It's _impossible_."

The conversation went on rather joyfully in that direction, but Jon didn't feel invited to take part in it.

At the end of the day, he was only a bastard from Westeros. They could treat him as an inferior, because they actually thought that he was.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

When Robb knocked on her door, he was nervous like never before. The fist which had knocked the door was mildly shaking. He was about to enter into a girl's private chambers_ at night_, and not only that: those where the private chambers of the girl he had fallen for and the one he was to marry – on top of that, a princess. In a foreign country – a _much hotter _country, which meant that she would see his well-built arms for the first time in her life and that he'd see her wearing a thinner dress. If the dresses she had worn in Winterfell suited her nicely, how stunning would she look in a thin, tight, sexy silk dress like the one Lady Sunnyhap was wearing?

"Robb, you may enter." She answered formally from behind the door. In spite of her serious tone of voice, the use of his name was sweet. Two seconds later, she opened the door herself. "Come in, please." She whispered kindly to him, glad to see him again.

He stared at her with incredulity and couldn't take his eyes off the lovely, light pink, silk dress with short sleeves that she was wearing. She was like an explosion of youth and freshness. The long skirt trapped his gaze as she walked and swayed her hips. And the neckline of her dress was too generous, but Robb didn't mentally complain about it. At all.

'The easier to rip it off when she'll be mine.' Robb thought with naught, although he immediately reprimanded himself for thinking such a thing.

"I'm glad to see you're well taken care of." He began whispering with badly-contained joy and blushing.

The candles that she had lit were casting their beautiful light onto her curvy body and her lovely dark hair.

"The Thirteen have been very polite and kind to me. But I don't want to think much about it." She said seriously as she walked to a huge burgundy chaise longue and sat on it. She motioned him to do the same.

"Think much about it? What do you mean?" He asked naively as he sat down beside her.

"If I wasn't a princess, would they have done it?" She asked with hooded eyelids, her long eyelashes fanning briefly, just once, facing the direct, yellowish candlelight.

He fell silent due to the sad tone of her voice as she uttered that rhetorical question.

"Anyway, I don't want to talk about this." She added trying to bring more life to her voice. "It's pointless. That's what they're bound to do and I don't really care, so I'm not going to question them. _You_, on the other hand, …"

"What? _Me_?!" He asked in pain to see her suspicion-driven eyes on his. "Are you doubting _me_?!"

"What I mean is that you treated me very kindly _before_ you knew who I really was, which is nice. I'd rather go on like before, honestly. But what about _now_? I _do_ want to know where we stand. Will you treat me differently just because now I'm a pri-?"

"Is that why you've sent for me tonight – _alone_?"

"Partially, _yes_." She admitted, lolling her head a bit to one side, feeling a bit playful. "I was also thrilled to see you, too."

"Awfully honest, as usual." He replied with a warm smile on his face.

"Let me just say something first, though." She suddenly said. "I get it now. You're here for me. I really like that. I see that King Robert doesn't want to kill me, _I guess_. But…"

"'_I guess_', you say? Marian… _please_…" He insisted.

"I just want to know the _brutal, honest truth_ about what has happened in my absence, because from where I stand it's chaotic." Marian explained herself quite frantically. "For example, what has happened to the three princes and Queen Cersei? Have they vanished into thin air, perhaps? What about the murders of the other bastard children that the king had? I'm still one of them. What about me – I'm a bastard daughter, remember? Like Jon." That made Robb frown. "Thus, I shouldn't have _any_ claim on the throne. Why does the king want me so badly then? I don't get it. You have to admit that it's only natural that I still have my doubts."

"I see. That was why you panicked so much about the king wanting you back."

"Of course I panicked." She added. "I thought he wanted me to kill me."

"Marian, I… I mean, _Princess_ Marian, I…" He began struggling to find the proper words.

"Drop the stupid title thing. I hate it already." She insisted seriously.

"It's barely started, and you'd better get used to it, _Princess_ Marian." He insisted as if he was chiding her, but only a little.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. But Robb could only laugh a bit at her.

"Don't you dare laugh at me, Robb!" She said mocking her anger.

"Anyway, let me tell you what happened when you were gone." Robb said.

When Robb began his tale of the sad things that happened that night, she listened very carefully trying to decipher the intense look of his predatory eyes on her. The spy's letter, the truth about Cersei's unfaithfulness, about the other bastards, about the spy and her will to have her revenge sated, the Lannisters' imprisonment and beheading, etc. His tone of voice was at times worried, at times sweet and charming.

Her hunch was getting weaker and weaker… She even began to think that he was thinking about her in romantic terms. She had to be careful because she admitted to herself that Robb might be interested in her more than before now that she was to be Queen of Westeros. Her quick wit told her to keep a safe distance from Robb because…

'His father is a close friend of the king. Two friends with a son and a daughter of the same age, who happen to know each other and to get on well together… _Oh-oh_.'

She could also do the math. She knew what that meant – and she knew why the king had sent Robb for her. That was why the more he spoke to her, the more she was convinced that he already knew she was going to be his someday – _soon_, probably. She blushed revealingly as she was thinking about a potential, yet unconfirmed engagement with Robb right when he was telling her the part in which Tyrion had spilled the beans about her encounter with Jon.

"Tyrion Lannister saw us?!" She interrupted amazed. Her fear spiked when she realised that not only Tyrion knew about their love affair, but also the king, Lord Stark, and Robb himself if he had told them everything he had seen. And what about the part in which Jon almost had his way with her?!

"That's the most embarrassing part." He admitted, blushing like her, but he was speaking quite formally. "Tyrion told us that Jon not only proposed to you, but also that he kissed you and tried to convince you to elope with him."

"You almost make it sound unbelievably normal with that voice." She replied convinced that he was omitting the nastiest bits for her sake.

"Tyrion's tale might be striking and true," He went on with a gentle smile. "but that doesn't mean that Jon has no honour at all. I've known him all my life, and I know he would've never done anything which might bother a young lady like you."

At that, Marian was convinced that Robb didn't know about it all. Tyrion might've skipped the hottest part, sparing Jon from the uncontrollable rage of the king.

"He didn't do me any harm, I swear." She whispered blushing wildly.

"You don't have to. I know." He whispered back seriously but smiling.

She sighed with relief. _Great relief_.

"Anyway," She said. "I'm still a bastard daughter of the king. I don't count as a valid option to…"

"You don't have to worry about that. King Robert will marry your biological mother, which will automatically make you the lawful heiress to the throne."

"That looks like a badly-arranged patched-up work to me." She wasn't satisfied.

"It isn't, believe me. The king's brothers won't be able to deny your birth right." He claimed sure of what he was saying.

"It still makes me feel like a _tool_, not a _person_." She concluded feeling wounded.

"I suppose you've grown up with different values here. I get it." He replied warmly. His smile was bewitching, but despite his kindness she would never fall in love with him the way she had fallen for Jon. "When we take you to King's Landing, you'll have to get used to this. But don't worry. You'll be protected at all times. The game works like this, whether you like it or not."

They fell silent for some time until Robb decided to break the ice with a romantic comment which he honestly thought it might allow him to get closer to her.

"You can only hope to end up sharing your life with someone who _understands_ you fully."

At that, she stared straight at him. The candlelight was delightfully shining on his manly features. His eyes were locked on hers and he had a tempting warm smile on his lips. His voice was merely a low whisper, but its sweetness triggered all her inner alarms.

'_Oh-oh_. This is it.' She thought, her heart rattling madly like a drum. 'He's going to propose to me. Or kiss me. I have to come up with something to change the topic of the conversation. Sort of _nowish_…'

"I highly doubt that the king can understand me fully." She commented all of a sudden.

With that, she successfully dodged it. It made Robb believe that she thought he was referring to the king and not himself. He chuckled briefly at her alleged blindness.

"_Maybe_ if he…" Robb insisted, but Marian cut his speech.

"Do you think he'll let me continue my work?" She asked genuinely worried about her passion for medicine all of a sudden. "That's key to understanding me, like you say. It's my whole life."

At that, Robb frowned.

"I don't think so, Princess Marian." He answered serious as hell.

"_Titles_, Robb, …" She warned him playfully, trying to make him smile again as if their topic of conversation wasn't _that_ bad.

"_I don't think so_." He insisted with a husky voice. "He won't ever let you. _No one_ in their sane mind would, actually."

"What?" She asked dumbfounded and hurt. She got paler and paler. She didn't see that one coming.

"King's Landing is the most dangerous place of all. And now your social position makes you extremely valuable. There's far too many people with ruthless intentions… You can't be a doctor and cure people the way you've been doing it until now."

His voice was so stern and firm that she didn't recognise him.

"You must be kidding me…" She whispered hopelessly.

"When we take you to King's Landing, you'll have a new life. You can start over new." He tried to brighten up the subject.

"You must be kidding me…" She repeated as if she couldn't think properly.

They fell silent for some time.

"But… what am I supposed to do from now on then?" She asked feeling the panic flow in her veins.

"What the other women and girls do." He answered with a straight simple tone of voice.

"What?! You mean I should spend the rest of my life sewing, delivering and raising children, gossiping, strolling, watering pot plants and other _stupid_ things?!" She said enraged, beyond offended. "_Is that what I'm worth now_?!"

He realised that she considered her current state of affairs a prison for her mind, an intellectual dead-end, and he became unbearably sad. It really was a dead-end for her. Any other girl would hopelessly dream of becoming a princess or being born one, but Marian _didn't_. She didn't mean to offend him, but her last words implied that she was feeling betrayed – and Robb didn't want to feel as though he was part of it, although he obviously was. He had come to Qarth to get her. Guilt started to eat him whole inside out.

"_You're killing me_!" She went on complaining using the saddest and most hurting tone of voice that she'd ever used on Robb. That broke his heart. "I can't believe _this_…"

She stood up and stared through the window, giving him her back. She was on the verge of crying, something she wasn't sure she could help not doing at that stage. She had always tried to be and act stronger, but fate was imposing itself of her, bending her, deforming her future in ways she could've never foretold. She clenched her fists in anger.

"Leave me alone." She whispered sadly to him, not daring to meet his eyes.

"Marian, …" He softly whispered to her.

"I said, leave me alone." She insisted with anger, then.

Robb didn't insist any further and went to the door. He was hurting inside. He wished he could do or say something to soothe her, but he knew she had to come to terms with the harsh reality, and that might take some time.

"I'll be here if you need me. Call me." He softly whispered as he left and closed the door.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Marian wasn't fully convinced about it all.

Life as she had always known it would soon be radically different. She would no longer be able to proceed with the medical care of those who needed it, regardless of their social status or their income. The values that her adoptive father had once taught her were falling apart due to what was considered 'normal' for a woman of her age in Westeros – and she didn't like it one bit.

Robb had tried hard to ease her pain, and his efforts were something nice to count on. However, she needed something more which he couldn't offer to her. She had greatly appreciated his honesty, but she could only think of a pair of shoulders to lean on and cry her pains away: Jon's. She started to daydream about his broad shoulders, well-built chest, nice waist, hard jawline.

He was a bastard. He lived in Westeros. Therefore, he knew how badly it hurt when you were not allowed to do as you pleased, to quietly let other people's assumptions and ideas take over your private life and make it a living hell. The more glimpses she got of her new future life, the more she needed Jon.

And that was why she set her ire free.

Because she knew she _could_ and _would_ never have him by her side, because he was due to join the Night's Watch; and because she would be forced into leading a high and mighty lady's life… which would be lethally boring for her.

She couldn't take it anymore. She set her ire free…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Not much later, in the two foreigners' private chambers…

"_You've told her what_?!" Jon Snow's voice thundered, appalled, right after his brother Robb had told him about Marian's current mood.

"The sooner she deals with it, the better." Robb concluded seriously. "We'll set sail to King's Landing tomorrow if she's in a better mood."

"And you left her alone when she's obviously _breaking_?!" Jon's anger flared in his eyes.

"She told me to!" Robb complained back, but Jon didn't wait for his brother to answer and left in a hurry to Marian's chambers.

When he arrived right in front of her chambers' door, the two guards were already blocking the entrance to him with their spears. Jon expected as much, since it was already too late at night to pay a visit to a princess, but he insisted nonetheless. He managed to convince them using a very formal voice and a semi-plausible excuse regarding a medicine which no one actually needed, but he knew those stupid guards would buy it because Marian was a doctor.

"Marian! Are you…" Jon's worried voice hurried through the air to reach her ears as much as he hurried to see her. "… OK?"

He was fed up of not being able to see her. Lady Sunnyhap had managed to keep him at bay for some time, trying to bring him down, but he was fed up with it already.

When his mind was busy remembering the last time they had seen each other, or rather the last time they had _touched_ each other, he bumped into a badly broken wooden piece of some large shelves on the floor. He raised his eyes from it and then he saw more and more destroyed furniture on the floor ahead of him… and out of the window, the most frightening scene that he had ever seen until that night.

Floating, half-burning pages shining in the night's sky.

He silently crossed the door to the balcony and stared at the scene developing before his very eyes.

He could smell the ink being ruthlessly burnt alongside the paper and the bindings of books and notebooks. A bonfire had been lit in the middle of that large balcony surrounded by ivies and wild, multi-coloured flowers which Jon didn't recognise. Accidental witnesses of that rash, hot destruction were the stars in the sky and a sad, unsmiling moon high in the background. Partly hidden behind the flames, Marian stood there overlooking the vast sea in front of the palace. The fire was shining its trembling rays on her long, light pink, thin silk dress as she turned her head to see the stranger who had just come in – who wasn't _that strange_ to her after all, she soon realised.

Both gasped when they saw each other, they gazes connecting between passing, half-burnt, half-torn pages in the lazy night's air. She gasped because she had been wondering when Jon would eventually come by and see her. She honestly thought it was too late at night for visits and such courtesies.

He gasped because he recognised the dress she was wearing: it was the very same that she was wearing in his vision provided by the godswood in Winterfell. She would die in that dress if that awful vision became true. Well, he hadn't seen her die, but what other meaning could that dagger drawing some blood from her delicate neck possibly have? He swallowed hard and got paler, although the orange-red light of the fire disguised the result.

"Jon…" The sinful-quality velvet of her voice shone brighter than the bonfire as she whispered his name, and Jon's heart melted due to the heat wave that her voice caused on him.

"Marian…" He whispered deeply worried about her well-being when she started to run to him.

Although she looked greatly disappointed, annoyed and sad due to the news that Robb had laid on her, she wasn't crying. Her fit of anger had sufficed, but the written knowledge had paid a high price for it. It didn't seem to matter to her anymore now that Jon was there. Her eyebrows were suddenly bent so that her expression became hopelessly sorrowful – and it broke Jon's heart as much as he ached to soothe her.

But when Marian jumped into his embrace, hiding her face by the side of his neck, he froze with his arms open slightly on either side of her. The full, sudden contact with her body was something he wasn't ready for.

"What are you doing here, Marian?" Jon asked naively, referring to the massive destruction of priceless books and notes on medicine.

She stared at him for a moment and, with glowing eyes, she seemed to remember something important:

"_Something neither of us will ever regret_." She whispered back as she tiptoed and kissed him softly on his lips.

He didn't shy away from the contact although he knew he could not aspire to have her again in his arms. She took both his cheeks into her hands and softly slid them to his jaw and later to his ears and his unruly curly hair. She soon broke the kiss and stared at him, and all of a sudden he whispered:

"I hope you're not using that lip balm…" He said with a light smirk on his lips.

"No." She whispered back, smiling too.

"Because if you ever use it on me again, I swear I'll get mad." He said sternly.

"And I would _never_ want that, would I?"

When he started to miss her lips already, he leaned roughly on them forsaking all concept of decorum or honour. He embraced her tightly. She moaned once into his mouth in surprise.

At least there were no cold chair and no cream-coloured marble pillars anywhere around him to haunt him and his passion, which was a great relief for him. Just to prevent that cold-blooded vision from happening, he even thought of ripping off her dress so that it would no longer exist, which would have a very _different_ _meaning_ for her – a meaning which he was absolutely sure to carry on to the last of its consequences, even reaping her innocence.

Their kiss got heated up and rough, and none of them backed off. The strong, iron-like beams that he had for arms surrounded her slim frame by the small of her back and her nape. Then, he held her up and carried her inside, to the burgundy-coloured chaise longue. Once he led her to it, he softly broke the kiss and made her ass and back gently fall on it, he leaned on her bit by bit like a predator on his prey, and then he whispered, almost growling:

"I feel they've _betrayed_ me…" He said with a husky voice, getting unbearably slowly closer to her as he unbuttoned the top of his sleeveless shirt. Her sea shell necklace dangled from his neck, the silver ring occasionally jingling with her sea shell, which made Marian smile softly despite his spiteful words.

"Who?" She squeaked feebly, staring at his exposed biceps. She remembered the last time she had seen them, touched them.

"My father, Robb, the king… But I no longer care." He seemed truly hurt and she didn't know what to say to comfort him.

"Jon… I need you." She confessed blushing wildly when he was barely a couple of inches far from her lips.

"I don't care that you're getting married to my brother." He whispered with hooded eyes. "I'll make you mine."

That sent a tsunami of waves of desire down her spine, making her wet folds ache in anticipation of what he was more than willing to do to her right there, right then. In spite of that, the rational part of her mind managed to make a note of how right she had been to suspect that Robb was to marry her eventually.

But then her rationality got dumped on the side of the road when suddenly Jon leaned fully on her and kissed her with renewed passion. Not long after that, he shot a hand at one of her thighs, hoisting it up to his hips and making the long skirt of her dress fall to one side, becoming a useless barrier.

They could only hear the cracking noise of the burning paper in the fire and their own heated kissing. Their bodies seemed to ignite due to the contact with one another. They went on like that for quite a while, ignoring the passing of time as he gently traced endless paths with the tip of his forefinger on the skin of her hoisted, exposed leg.

"I never thought I'd meet anyone like you. I…" Jon suddenly whispered to her, taking a brief break from wildly kissing her.

Then, he just brushed a lock of her beautiful dark hair slowly, and he carefully tucked it behind her left ear – and then he sighed almost inaudibly. No matter how hard he would ever try not to touch or stare at her, she was too gorgeous to be ignored. She was like an unforgiving magnet, incessantly pulling him towards her: her lightly-closed eyes, her long dark eyelashes, her fragile head turned sideways on her right partly facing him then, her warm rosy cheeks, her sweet pink lips, her exposed porcelain-like neck, her strong silk-skinned shoulders, her tempting, suggestive neckline,… Jon swallowed hard because that list was blissfully long.

Like a ruthless murderer, his eyes suddenly darkened on hers. He just didn't want any more interruptions at all then. That time in the study room, for example, there had been first Arya and later Maester Luwin's interruptions. And by the Old Gods, getting interrupted was unbearable!

That was when he put one hand on her right cheek and the other on her left arm. He wanted to be a bit gentler to her than the last time. Then, he leaned down on her lips once more and kissed her softly, only once, and yet he lengthened the contact because it was as if he needed to relish the simple touch of her warm, soft lips. He wanted her badly, more than he'd ever admit to anyone. Something was constantly pulling him to her, tempting him to act more daringly – and he loved it.

His lips were throbbing, expecting to have more than they were allowed to. That was the taste of the sweet forbidden. He couldn't wait to be _burning_ with her, or rather _inside_ her…

As soon as his lips parted from hers one more time, he stared down at her and he felt that well-known sensation of heat in his body. The back of his neck felt like boiling, like hers. The palms of his hands started sweating. He also felt his eyesight grow dimmer and his cheeks were burning with something darker – but a lot more appealing – than shame. He felt that he needed more, and so did she – that both couldn't be sated only with a kiss. And, by the wild look of abandonment in her eyes, she was more than willing to give it to him.

Before he knew it, his head was gently resting on the crook of her neck, his eyes were gently closed and his lips were brushing her skin all the way down to her shoulder. His right hand dared to travel down her arm, gently like a feather, until it shifted to her waist and finally rested on her hips. Something in his mind complained at the touch of the fabric of her panties… It felt _so right_ and _so wrong_ at the same time…

Then, he heard a faint sound. Air being blown… Was it the wind, gently howling through the open door of the balcony, as if it was a sigh? But no, he had heard her sweetly moan very lowly.

He sighed without restraint, opened his eyes again and just lifted his head an inch from the skin of her neck. Then he raised his eyes to meet hers. He wanted to check on her.

"I'm surely going to pay for this sooner or later." He whispered as if he was exhausted, the sea shell and the silver ring jingling a bit together.

She swallowed once softly as soon as she realised Jon might be a naïve kind of guy most of the time, but not as naïve as a little child: either his eyes or his hands had been resting on several striking attributes of her body – and he couldn't help it. She loved the way his eyes were roaming over her entire body, or touching her with his hands.

"Jon…" She whispered hesitatingly and her lips, parted in expectation, throbbed once.

"Hmm?" He asked half absently, staring at her.

There was no answer… No words could do justice to the feeling that she had locked down her throat. So she just sighed. Then, never breaking the eye contact, he kissed her softly once on her soft, sweet lips.

They were enjoying that private moment very much. Then, he leaned on her again and he kissed her again and again, very lightly, very gently. His teasing was never naughty, but reverent like a priest to his deity. She complied with her own secret desires by kissing him back in the same style and softly putting her hands on both his cheeks. And when he put his left hand softly beneath the cloth of her panties, she moaned lightly into his mouth and silently begged him to slide it down – and he pretended not to understand.

At one point she could feel his boner, although he had been trying to hide it. He didn't want to scare her. But as soon as she felt it burning against her inner thigh, she knew what would follow, and so did he, of course.

"You don't need to be nervous. You know I won't hurt you." He whispered gently as he combed a lock of her hair with his gentle fingers and tucked it behind her ear again. Her dishevelled dark hair was spreading all over the chaise long.

He began snogging her once more. He caressed her cheeks, her arms and her waist, forsaking the skin right beneath her panties for some time. He wanted to enjoy her more to compensate for his other brief encounters with her. Unexpectedly, however, she parted her legs and pushed herself towards him. Due to that bold move on her behalf, he moaned lowly into her mouth. Then, she put both her hands on his broad shoulders and started rocking her hips very slowly against his, tantalising him.

He stopped snogging her and gasped. He suddenly sank his head in the crook of her neck and breathed hard. She stopped rocking her hips just in case – she had noticed his muscles tense suddenly by the way his shoulders had become rock-hard under her hands. Then, he lifted his head again to stare at her and said:

"If you do that again, I'll…" He whispered mildly angered. Then, Marian put her forefinger on his lips and spoke thus:

"Whatever it is, do it to me." She whispered rather apologetically (although she didn't feel sorry about it), surrendering to his mighty stare.

That sentence triggered the beast within him, so much so that he ruthlessly undressed her completely and swiftly took off his shirt. He loved the way his shadow was cast on her naked body before him. And she loved the way the light from the bonfire outside outlined his naked chest and head, and also the way her necklace rested on his collar bones. But she couldn't enjoy the sight for much longer, since he sank his head between her thighs, with darker intentions. That bold move caught her by surprise. As soon as he licked her wet folds for the first time, she arched her back and moaned once, then she gasped for air as if she had been diving under the water for too long and hopelessly yelled whispering:

"_Oooh_ my Gods, I love you, Jon!"

Her cheeks were aflame. That heavenly torture went on for quite some time, but she never regretted having spurred Jon beyond his self-control. He had got hold of her hips and thighs with his strong hands, never failing to keep her pinned down where he wanted her. And he licked on and on, tantalising her as much as he wanted. A never-ending flow of moans kept springing from her delicate, throbbing lips, which was a pride-spurring reward for Jon.

Whenever she got tense and tried to move her hips, he'd softly bite one of her inner thighs until she froze. Then, he would kiss it softly, only once, and he'd get back to licking her wet folds once more.

"Tell me you like it." He whispered at her.

She hesitated and blushed wildly for a couple of seconds, but right when he teased her a bit further by licking her cunt a bit more daringly, she found the courage to speak.

"Isn't it obvious by now?" She asked a bit shyly.

He smirked at her wet folds.

"Proud girl…" He whispered at her with a bit of naught.

Then, he dived into her wet folds once more as if he was going to do it harder to her, and she knew he would make it count as some sort of punishment because of her pride, but suddenly he stopped, waited a couple of seconds and then he _hardly_ touched her throbbing, wet folds just once with his forefinger that Marian winced in anticipation of something he suddenly would not give her.

"_Oh, my_…!" She eventually said gasping.

"What did you say?" His husky voice was almost one of those fearful growls, and she loved the sound of it.

She gasped once before forsaking her pride and giving in:

"I like it." She whispered feebly.

He smirked again, but then he proceeded to give her what she needed. On and on he licked, and whenever her hips accidentally bucked against him, he subdued them with his mighty hands and softly biting her inner thigh.

"I like it, Jon…" She repeated freely between gasps and moans.

He realised she was completely free, that he had bent her pride, and tried to push her a bit further.

"Do you think Robb will ever make you feel like this, Marian?" He asked her with a daring lick on her wet folds.

She was breathing hard by then, but she could still manage to use some air to speak:

"Fat chance…"

At that, Jon chuckled and decided it was time for her to climax. Nevertheless, the sound of a well-known, young male voice on the outside of her chamber's door made both of them freeze instantly.

"_Shit_! It's Robb…" Jon complained in anger while Robb was talking to the two guards outside. He knew he would not have been able to make love to her that night – if his vision was right, of course. And Robb's presence there to interrupt what he was doing to her was enough proof of it.

"Jon, I don't want this." She whispered in a rush as he helped her to sit up by his side. "I don't want to go to King's Landing." She complained with desperation.

"You have to." He also whispered in a rush. They would have to hurry before Robb entered her chambers. He helped her to get dressed.

"What about you?" She was unwilling to part from his daring touch down below, but they had to get fully dressed and look presentable.

"You already know that." He said as he pulled her long skirt down her legs.

"And I hate it." She replied helping a bit.

"Can't be helped." He said putting his shirt back on.

"Think of something, then." She panicked, but she was still whispering in a hurry. "I'm willing to do the _craziest_ thing that you may come up with. I don't care."

He chuckled at her even though it was not the best time for that. Plus, she wasn't joking either. She finished getting ready and combing her hair with her fingers.

"I'm not joking." She insisted frowning when he sat a bit farther from her.

"You're the smart one, Marian." He concluded, smiling at her, almost finishing buttoning his shirt.

"I've run out of ideas." She admitted.

"You'll be safe and sound. Robb will take good care of you." He concluded darkly.

"I'm a _bastard_ girl, Jon." She added worried. "You know how this works in Westeros, don't you? Being the _only_ option as an heir of a whole kingdom doesn't make me safer, even if my father marries my mother for my sake… or Robb marries me for my sake. What if they _murder_ me when I've already delivered a _male_ heir and I'm no longer useful, _huh_? They don't _love_ me, they just _need_ me."

His eyes shot instantly at her in panic mode.

"I can't offer you anything." He replied feeling guilty of being unable to save her.

"I don't _fucking_ care." She replied whispering in a rush when Robb crossed the threshold and saw them.

Jon's distance broke Marian's heart as Jon rose from the chaise longue to welcome his brother.

"It's taking you _quite a while_ to soothe her, brother. Need any help?" Robb said trying to sound formal and not especially jealous, but it was too obvious to everyone in the room.

"No, I was just about to leave already. Coming with me?" Jon replied dryly as he got nearer his brother.

"Of course." Robb answered with fake joy as they crossed the threshold.

'Yeah, I'd love to '_cum'_ too with you, Jon…' She thought with sarcasm, pun intended.

They left her on her own. At least Robb was satisfied to know that Jon wouldn't be spending one more minute alone with her, but one little detail kept nagging him: Jon's shirt was a bit unbuttoned at the top, and Robb had partly seen Marian's sea shell necklace next to a silver ring dangling from Jon's neck.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary**: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC

**Disclaimer**: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)

**_*So sorry, guys/ladies. Moving in and out of places isn't fun. No internet… (sigh)… On top of that, I've got no heating so… basically I'm freezing as I'm writing. Yeah, I know it's spring already and I shouldn't be complaining, but it's still rather cold here. Besides, "_****winter is coming****_". Everybody fucking knows that! Anyway, I have to figure out a way to stay warm as I write on before I die and become a White Walker. _****_XOXO – Denim Jean_**

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Previously…**

"I'm a _bastard_ girl, Jon." She added worried. "You know how this works in Westeros, don't you? Being the _only_ option as an heir of a whole kingdom doesn't make me safer, even if my father marries my mother for my sake… or Robb marries me for my sake. What if they _murder_ me when I've already delivered a _male_ heir and I'm no longer useful, _huh_? They don't _love_ me, they just _need_ me."

His eyes shot instantly at her in panic mode.

"I can't offer you anything." He replied feeling guilty of being unable to save her.

"I don't _fucking_ care." She replied whispering in a rush when Robb crossed the threshold and saw them.

Jon's distance broke Marian's heart as Jon rose from the chaise longue to welcome his brother.

"It's taking you _quite a while_ to soothe her, brother. Need any help?" Robb said trying to sound formal and not especially jealous, but it was too obvious to everyone in the room.

"No, I was just about to leave already. Coming with me?" Jon replied dryly as he got nearer his brother.

"Of course." Robb answered with fake joy as they crossed the threshold.

'Yeah, I'd love to '_cum'_ too with you, Jon…' She thought with sarcasm, pun intended.

They left her on her own. At least Robb was satisfied to know that Jon wouldn't be spending one more minute alone with her, but one little detail kept nagging him: Jon's shirt was a bit unbuttoned at the top, and Robb had partly seen Marian's sea shell necklace next to a silver ring dangling from Jon's neck.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 13: Betrayal**

The next morning at dawn, Robb decided to speak with Lord and Lady Sunnyhap. They didn't look one bit surprised when he asked them to let them leave that very same morning to King's Landing. They noticed Robb's half-concealed bad mood and assumed that it must've been due to Marian's stubbornness. The Princess could be a striking beauty, but she was also a pain in the ass when she wanted to. Not long after their consent, Robb sent word to Marian to pack her things and get ready to set sail in an hour. She didn't like the idea, but she trusted Robb in any decision that he would need to make.

After that, Robb entered Jon's private chamber to speak with him in private. When, instead of wishing him good morning, he told Jon they would be leaving in only an hour, Jon saw how serious and stern his brother's countenance was. He had hardly ever seen him with that expression on his face.

"Are we leaving so soon?" Jon asked Robb quite neutrally. "I assumed you'd let Marian visit her adoptive father's grave at least. They didn't allow her yesterday."

"I'm afraid we can't afford that." Robb replied sadly. "I've told her already."

"Why are we leaving so soon?" Jon asked a bit worried.

"I trust Lord and Lady Sunnyhap, but I don't trust these guards. Didn't you notice their attitude?" Robb asked him with suspicion in his voice. His eyes displayed an unrivalled level of distrust and coldness.

"How come?" Jon tried to keep it cool, although he had noticed something strange. "They serve them and therefore they owe their loyalty to them. If you trust the Lord and the Lady, why should you doubt them?"

"Something's wrong." Robb answered seriously, suddenly sliding his gaze from Jon's face to his neck. Marian's necklace had been concealed again beneath the collar of his shirt, but Robb knew it was there. "I don't know what, but I'm not willing to risk Marian's welfare. If they try anything, it'll be this very morning before we leave. So keep your eyes open. We're sailing to King's Landing this morning – _and that's final._"

"OK." Jon replied dryly at his brother's stern comments.

"I've just told Lord and Lady Sunnyhap about our departure and they agree." Robb added sternly, just about to leave Jon's room. "Which means that they don't have much time to prepare a plan, _if_ they're up to something, of course. But I _do_ hope there will be no leaks and that our departure will be uneventful."

"Aye, brother." Jon added, dryly again, and then Robb disappeared behind the door.

'So I don't have much time to think about the escape plan that Marian wanted so badly…' Jon thought with worry and sadness. 'I wonder whether Robb is _actually_ referring to those guards… or _me_.'

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

An hour went by and our favourite trio was about to set sail to King's Landing. Some servants were carrying their luggage to their ship at the docks while Robb was shaking hands with Lord and Lady Sunnyhap. They had been exchanging pleasantries and gifts as tokens of the good relationship between the Thirteen and King Robert Baratheon. Even Josua had come to say goodbye to Marian. In the meantime, a large group of guards were surrounding the area as if nothing special was taking place. Robb even began to think that maybe he was mistaken in assuming that they were up to something.

But Marian wore the most displeased countenance of the whole party: she wanted to insist that the cure should be returned to her – or at least that they acknowledged that they needed her in Qarth and that it would be used to help any patient regardless of their wealth or social status. Her anger was showing through her frown and tightly-pressed lips – and both Lord and Lady Sunnyhap noticed something going on in her mind, but they didn't suspect for one single second that it was about the cure. They just dismissed the feeling considering it to be her unwillingness to leave.

When Robb finished talking about dull, socially-accepted, farewell topics, Marian wanted to voice her worries, but then, out of the blue, most of the guards sprang onto the nobles present, but a still loyal minority of the guards managed to stop them. A ruthless struggle took place before the startled Lord and Lady Sunnyhap, Robb, Jon, Josua and Marian. The three young men and Lord Sunnyhap drew their swords and shielded Marian and Lady Sunnyhap. The few servants behind them were as afraid as they were, so they guessed they were innocent, like Lord and Lady Sunnyhap. While the men fought an unknown enemy acting through those treacherous soldiers, Marian asked Lady Sunnyhap with worry:

"What's going on?!"

"I don't know… but…" Lady Sunnyhap replied scared like a cat. "we've had rumours that some guards had been bribed to betray us. Word about it reached us only yesterday, right after you arrived here. We didn't fully trust the source, but we thought that increasing the guards' weekly pay would be enough to deal with it. Apparently, it didn't work."

Not long after that confession, Lord Sunnyhap, Robb, Jon, Josua and the loyal guards ended victorious. Lady Sunnyhap repeated her words to the young men present and Lord Sunnyhap confirmed it. But suddenly they realised that one of the traitors was still alive, quite battered and deadly wounded, but still conscious and able to talk, so Lord Sunnyhap decided to make him speak:

"Who do you serve, traitor? Who has paid far more gold than me so that you would be willing to sell your loyalty like that?!" He asked him enraged, but when the traitor refused to give him an answer, Lord Sunnyhap slapped his face twice and repeated the question yelling louder. "_Who do you serve, traitor_?! Answer me!"

The traitor couldn't take it anymore and was about to confess when suddenly an arrow was shot to his skull. The mysterious archer-assassin stood far away and immediately ran away. Even though the loyal guards chased him around town, they lost him and no one never discovered who he was, what he wanted and who he worked for.

"But one thing is clear." Jon concluded putting his sword back in the sheath. "They can _only_ be interested in the most valuable person here."

And everyone stared at Princess Marian at once. She swallowed hard.

"The sooner we leave, the better." Jon whispered to her staring into her eyes as he feared for her well-being.

And then, she just nodded.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Lord Tywin Lannister, a god whose hands handled gold like a fish could handle water, had never been so leisurely entertained.

Ever since his twins had publicly ashamed the family name and honour, he could not focus on anything else but vengeance. In spite of that, their beheading had felt like a relief, although he would've preferred to have done it _himself_, not the king. On top of that, King Robert had made the whole affair so public and downgrading that he felt he needed some sort of compensation from him to cleanse the family name. But the only two things that kept nagging him were that he had no 'worthy' offspring left other than Tyrion, whom he despised so much because of what he was by the way (on top of that, he had fled for good), and that vengeance onto the Baratheon bloodline would be a long-term, rather difficult enterprise – and he didn't like it one bit. He wanted something done as soon as possible.

However, he had found a way to entertain those dull hours and days before the final accomplishment of his goals. His frown had been lifted like the fog before the mighty sun, although the sun wasn't what, or rather _who_, was precisely before him at that moment.

"M'lord…" An almond-shaped-eyed beauty whispered in an exquisite foreign accent, glancing for a second at his face from over her exposed shoulder. "_Now_ you look more relaxed. That's more like it."

She was 'sitting' on his lap, stark naked and connecting her hips with his, rocking them daringly as if she knew she had him completely. But her rather proud moves and statements were met by the icy, thick wall that was his annoyed voice saying thus:

"Don't distract me, girl."

She just smirked at the ceiling, her dark curls moving freely on her shoulders, and she defied the mighty lord who was nailing her once more, unafraid of what he could, and _would_, do to her if he wasn't pleased.

"I thought the purpose of me being here tonight was precisely to… _distract_ you."

Sassy was a trait of her personality that she was really proud of, but lord Tywin Lannister liked his whores silent and coy.

"Watch your _mouth_, girl, unless you want me to _deal_ with it… _at my will_."

There was no other meaning to those words than the literal one. She gasped once, knowing that if she pushed him any further, she would probably end up tasting his cum on her tongue for being a bad girl. Nevertheless, he seemed sated and happy in his 'fucking throne', with her young, warm flesh galloping up and down his elder frame. He moulded her tits in his bare, warm hands then, and she seemed to defy him no longer – but he knew better. He knew her quite well from previous 'encounters', and she was fierce and rouge like no other. She needed to be tamed.

That was why he had planned something special for her that morning.

All of a sudden, there was a soft knocking on the door. When lord Tywin Lannister orally replied and bade whoever was there to enter the room, another young girl came in in a rather tamed attitude. She was blond, quite short and pale, but quite a beauty nonetheless.

"Come, girl." He commanded quite neutrally, so unlike before. "You know what to do. Kneel down in front of her."

When she did as told, she began to expose herself without being told to. The thin straps of her dress fell on either side of her shoulders and arms. Exhaling just once in a coy fashion, she dared to look up to the other slut whom the lord was hopelessly fucking. Thin droplets of sweat slowly danced down her hot skin until they reached between her open legs, right in front of the blondie's face.

"Good girl." He complimented. "Now, lick her down there. You know…" He went on with a dark voice, enjoying every single word. "Where they like it most… And _you_," He then said using a harsh, punitive voice to the sassy slut. "stay still. Stop moving like that. You're not on a horse."

"Very well, m'lord." The sassy girl answered coyly, suddenly afraid of what that second slut was used to do in that kneeling position. Although the latter seemed a little weakling, her determination to follow the lord's commands was firm and experienced – and the former swallowed hard at the prospect.

"Since you insist on being disrespectful to me, young slut," He went on harshly to the first girl. "I decided to teach you a jolly good lesson today… and little Lily will help me out, as usual, right love?"

The second girl, that 'little Lily', nodded silently and then she put both her hands on the sitting girl's thighs. Next, her face came closer and closer to her clit. Lord Tyrin Lannister didn't take out his manhood from her – he was still fucking her, but slowlier than before. He put both his hands on either side of her hips just to make sure the sassy girl wouldn't escape or move, while Lily just needed to tease her from the front part of her clit with her tongue just as slow as her lord was fucking the other girl.

When Lily licked her for the first time, the sassy slut let out a surprised gasp. It felt sinfully awesome, but something was amiss. That Lily really knew what she was doing: she had been trained for this.

"_What the f-?!_" She exclaimed, trembling a bit.

"Little Lily here knows her tricks. I taught her _myself_." Lord Tywin Lannister whispered into her left ear quite defyingly.

As he pumped into her once more, increasing his speed and depth a little bit, little Lily licked her again in the same fashion. It felt more than just good: it bordered an exquisite pain. The sassy slut couldn't help confusing enjoyment with pain.

"You're going to _regret_ being so sassy in my presence, girl." He said with scorn as he sank his fingertips too much on the flesh of her hips. She felt them grabbing the bones of her hips with too much harshness.

"I never meant to offend you, m'lord…" She whispered apologetically, hoping it would be enough.

"You have the _nasty habit_ of taking the liberty to speak. It's been a few times already." His voice chilled the blood in her veins and she knew it was far from over. "Do you honestly think this is still King's Landing, or that filthy brothel from where I picked you?"

He ploughed into her once more, roughly, which little Lily understood it as her cue to act her part.

"No, m'lord." She whispered with sadness, her lips trembling. He body was telling her she'd cum soon, while her mind was regretting the punishment.

"I rule here, which means that everybody does as I say." He went on with ire. "Including _you_."

With the last word, he pumped deeply into her once more with all the anger he could muster, which almost tore her apart. She let her tears flow down her cheeks due to the pain, and then she gasped once more at the electric touch which little Lily's tongue caused on her clit.

"The fact that I'm fucking you once in a while doesn't give you _any_ privileges over the rest of the servants. _Is that understood_?" He asked her, getting a firm hold of her chin and forcing her face to turn to his fiery eyes.

"Yes…" She whispered feeling the urge to cry more and more.

"Very well, then. Just to make sure that you've learnt your lesson… Lily, _second phase_, please." He commanded with a husky voice once he let go of her chin.

At that, little Lily slid her hands to the sassy slut's knees and, when her lord pumped into her again, then she bit the most delicate spot of her clit. The sassy slut shuddered violently. She desperately wanted to stand up and flee, but she couldn't since her lord had a tight hold on her hips as he went on ruthlessly fucking her. In spite of that, she tried to move them, much to Lord Tywin Lannister's disgust, which only spurred him to fuck her his hardest. She hadn't learnt her lesson.

"Lily! Bite her once more!" He yelled in anger.

And then, he slapped the sassy slut's thighs four times as if she had insulted him. His palms and fingers had left a nasty mark on her soft, warm skin. He had his teeth clenched and a wild look on his face, as if he'd love to whip her right then.

"_Don't you dare to move, girl_!" He yelled at her. "Who do you think you are? You'll be tamed and I'll be sated! Lily… don't stop until I command you to. I _don't care_ if she bleeds."

Silently, little Lily swiftly did as told as if she had done it too many times before.

"Now," Lord Tywin went on, still angry at the sassy slut. "tell me you will do as I command. _Now_."

"I'll do as you command, m'lord." She replied immediately, whispering between gasps and moans, and closing her eyes while taking in the unbearable mix of pain and pleasure derived from the fucking and the biting down there.

"_Louder_!" He yelled.

"I'LL DO AS YOU COMMAND, M'LORD!" She yelled hopelessly.

"Tell me you like to be treated like this." He said as he ruthlessly slapped her thighs once more, fucked her hard and Lily went on painfully biting her.

"I LITE TO BE TREATED LIKE THIS, M'LORD!" She yelled as she brutally cummed and cried.

"Tell me you like me." He insisted although he knew she had already come undone.

"I like you, m'lord…" She went on mechanically, almost devoid of life.

"If you _defy_ me again, I'll whip you… and _more_. Little Lily will have to start the _third_ phase on you, girl. And you wouldn't like that, I think." He whispered darkly. "I like my sins and my own deviant hobbies… So don't cross me again. Now, get dressed and go."

The sassy slut got dressed, stood up and stumbled to the door, trying to look normal and collected – but she was far from that within. Little Lily exited the room shortly after her once she had bowed to her lord and dressed again.

Lord Tywin Lannister had just spent _a normal, dull morning_.

"I fear I'll soon be bored of this." He whispered to himself. "Breaking worthless, young girls isn't that much fun anymore… I'll have to look for some other… _diversion_."

And he smirked at the ceiling as he had selected his next victim.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In the meantime, at the port of Qarth…

Soon after the incident, they set sail to King's Landing in a desirably uneventful manner. Their trip was peaceful, because to everyone's relief there were no traitors on board.

_No traitors apart from Jon's sinful thoughts on Marian._

In spite of them, Jon stayed away from her during all the trip on the ship. He would've loved to kiss those sweet lips again; to caress her soft, warm skin again; to feel her tremble and moan because of his touch down there, where she said she needed him most. But Robb's words last night and earlier that same morning had been too pregnant with a potential knowledge that was making Jon feel extremely uneasy.

'Does Robb suspect anything?' Jon thought with worry. 'I told him that I was to marry her only two days ago. He must suspect that I still want her. And I do. But ever since Marian was acknowledged as the true heir of the Iron Throne, I've never said a word about my feelings for her anymore. I thought the topic would've died naturally due to our radically different states of affairs. The king even reprimanded me for what I did. But Robb must think that I'm not OK with this. Anyway, he knows I can't have her, and that I'm leaving to The Wall. So there's no point in being jealous of me. What should I do? Should I speak with him about it?'

Not far from Jon, in a different part of the ship though, Robb and Marian were exchanging a few words.

"I honestly don't know whether there are more traitors on board." Robb said sternly and serious as hell. He seemed pissed off. "Just to be safe, you should lock yourself in your chamber, Princess Marian… What? Don't look at me like _that_, as if I was putting you off." He concluded defensively.

"What? No!" She replied instantly, trying to reassure him. "No, you're not putting me off. And I don't even dislike the idea, Robb. You just… You seem beyond worried for this." She added with hesitation.

"I _am_ beyond worried, Marian. I mean… _Princess_ Marian." He said not daring to look into her eyes as he admitted that. That careless slip of the tongue, or rather old habit of calling her by her name, was driving him insane. He definitely wanted and needed to make use of her title in conversation.

Right after Robb's comment, she just sighed once and nodded because she knew that the day had barely started and there was too much to deal with already. She didn't want to push him any further bearing in mind that he was responsible for her safety.

"Look," She concluded with a gentle voice. "here's what we'll do: I'll lock myself in my chamber and I'll open the door to nobody except you… and Jon. Does this plan satisfy you?"

'_Satisfy me_?' Robb thought, his eyes suddenly bright with awe and desire. '_Satisfy me_?... Of course it _doesn't_! The _only_ plan that would actually _satisfy_ _me_ would be that _you'd let me…_'

But his sex-oriented trail of thought was suddenly cut.

"Robb? You there?" She whispered softly at him, gently snapping her fingers in front of his eyes.

"Yeah, sure, Marian." He managed to reply, quite absently though. "Me and Jon. Yeah…"

He bit his lower lip for a second, regretting having just agreed to let his brother – and the source of the beastly jealousy that he had ever felt in his entire life – be able to enter her chamber in the ship should she need anything.

"Good." She replied with a smile. When she pressed her lips in a tight line and softly nodded only once, she opened the door of her chamber and entered. "See you soon, I guess."

That vague admission that she would like to see him soon enough made Robb's heart skip a beat. He swallowed hard.

Not long after that, locked up in a luxurious private room, Robb needed to spend some time on his own.

'No matter how hard I try, I hate to know that Jon's got her sea shell necklace.' He admitted to himself. 'I am shamelessly jealous of him for the first time in my life. And yet, I know I shouldn't worry, because I'm the one who'll marry her. I will have her all to myself and no one can ever stand in my way. She's mine.'

He bit his lower lip in a sudden admission of the huge tension he was feeling. The ended up sinking his fingers in his lush, curly hair, resting his elbows on the table and sighing deeply only once.

"She's mine." He whispered to himself. "She'll soon be mine forever."

She had always been a ravishing sight for him ever since he had first seen her. Her lovely face, her delicate eyelashes, her long, lush hair, her firm arms and hands, her curvy shape, her suggestive neckline, her blissful expression full of awe when something she doesn't foresee is mentioned in conversation… He had never seen that lovely expression on any other girl's face.

'I still don't know why I've been so stern to her today.' He sighed again, softly closing his eyes and envisioning her in his mind's eye. 'Well, actually I do, but I can't treat her like that when it's obvious that Jon should know his place. It's not her fault, I think. She _must_ know how things are going to develop: Jon will be leaving for The Wall soon and we'll get married… Anyway, she sent for _me_ when we had arrived to Qarth… not Jon. _She wanted to see me_. _Me… Only me_.'

And then, he stared blankly at the wooden door before him and started to daydream about her…

He began to kiss her gently. His right hand flew to her nape in a swift and soft gesture to accommodate her. Her exposed arms felt limp all of a sudden… She was wearing that lovely pink silk dress he adored. He started tracing the most delicate of lines on her skin from her shoulder to her wrist with his index finger. It was as if a lightning had struck her mind and left her powerless. She could feel goose bumps blooming wherever he was touching her. Once his hand had run the distance and reached her wrist, he got hold of it, and she eventually dropped something that she was holding as his hand encircled her wrist.

He mentally smirked when he realized that she was suddenly, and gladly, powerless. As soon as her tension was erased, he felt empowered and managed to get past her lush lips to kiss her deeply. He also took her waist with his hands, trapping her arms between their chests as he had eventually breached the small distance between them. After that, he didn't mean to be gentle with her. The gentle kissing became a soul kiss, ruthless and mean, but she didn't hesitate one bit in admitting to herself that she was enjoying it fully.

All of a sudden Marian's hands moved to softly hold his cheeks and coyly play with the hair on his nape with the tip of her fingers. Very softly. Very slowly. As if she was testing her feet on unsteady ground… Then, she suddenly started to kiss him back, very slowly and shyly, and Robb felt himself in heaven already. Up until that moment she had been so passive… He found himself wondering whether she was admitting, consenting, releasing, giving in, and a bunch of other verbs… some feelings for him.

Everything could (and _would_) stay aside and wait for both of them if she chose to give in to him. He would even forget about that powerful jealousy that he felt for Jon.

Their kissing became something more primal, heated, endless… He pushed her to the nearest wall and nailed her there with his arms and well-built body. Since he wasn't delicate towards her, as soon as her back hit the wall she accidentally let out a moan in his mouth, which only spurred him to go on and created a certain tension underneath his pants. He started to wish he wasn't wearing his armour…

At some point he couldn't take it anymore and lifted her whole body against the wall whilst making her legs part. She didn't offer resistance at all, although she was still mildly hesitant about letting it go – or so he noticed. She had always been rather prudish. But what she used to be dissolved into nothing as he held her by her thighs against the wall.

But right when she felt he was getting too excited about it by what seemed to protrude from his pants and when he thought he was about to conquer the unattainable and set his flag on the highest of summits, the footsteps of a third person could be heard from the corridor. Robb stiffed and uttered a low growling sound as if the whole situation was real.

"M'lord," The voice of the captain of the ship formally called out to him. And that voice was real, damn real. "the weather is perfectly fine today. I just wanted to let you know that we don't expect any inconveniences while sailing. We'll be arriving at King's Landing in good timing."

"Very well." Robb replied sternly, hating the poor man for interrupting his daring daydreaming of her. "Thank you for letting me know."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In the meantime, King Robert and Lord Stark were about to arrive to King's Landing. They had decided to take a ship because it would be faster to travel. Once they would arrive, Lord Stark wanted to search for other bastards engendered by his dear friend, the king, although he was sure not one would've survived Cersei's fit of anger. In addition, the ginger-haired former spy of the king couldn't be traced. None of the king's guards and spies had been successful, which was odd. Naturally, the king was in a bad mood all the bloody time. The plan wasn't working as swiftly as he wanted.

When both the king and Lord Stark had arrived and had spent barely an hour in the royal palace, a brief note arrived telling the king that the ginger-haired spy didn't want to collaborate. She didn't want to marry him, or become Queen or Marian's mother. She stated that she wasn't interested in doing a single kind gesture to guarantee her daughter's welfare and, although it might have sounded unbearably cruel on her behalf, she directly blamed King Robert for it. They all knew it was _his_ fault, but Marian didn't deserve to pay such a price. She could get murdered by one of her uncles and their loyal servants. The spy even dared to suggest that the king should step down and give the crown back to a Targaryen. That was when the king lost it and tore the note into a thousand billion little pieces.

His plan had horribly backfired.

Lord Stark frowned as he realised that the future of the Iron Throne was bleak for Robb and Marian, and that King's Landing might become a paradise of bedlam and political turmoil.

He had to do something. _And quickly_.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Some hours later, in that hot late afternoon in King's Landing, the sun was shining like a giant, inflated orb, as if it was pregnant with an ominous excess of light.

"Welcome back!" King Robert roared with joy as Robb, Marian, and half-hidden in the background, Jon, entered the throne room. The journey had been a peaceful one and they had just arrived safely to King's Landing port. "I'm so glad to see you eventually! Let me take a good look at you, darling! Oh, this pink silk dress fits you nicely!"

The king's sudden interest in her felt weird. She wasn't used to being the centre of attention like that, and she blushed a little bit. Both Lord Stark and Robb smiled gently at the king and Marian as they shared what would be the first of many conversations together.

While that scene was taking place, Jon was busy being tortured by those cream-coloured marble pillars, and that good old cream-coloured marble floor, and suspecting whether the cold, mysterious chair he had been seated on in his vision could actually be the one and only chair-shaped thing in the room: the Iron Throne. He swallowed hard and got paler and paler, but no one noticed his distress because they were busy witnessing the king hail his lovely daughter.

"Could you all leave us to talk in private, please?" The king suddenly asked politely. Lord Stark even found it odd: his dear old friend never _asked_ for things, he _commanded_ them to be done for him asap. Maybe a new daughter would make him new man. "I need to speak with her about important matters."

When Lord Stark, Robb and Jon bowed and left them alone in the throne room, King Robert passed an arm behind her shoulders and motioned her to walk by his side. They began strolling round the room as the king started the ball rolling.

"Marian, may I have the honour of addressing you by your name?" He politely asked.

"You may, _your highness_." She replied formally, not thinking twice about it.

He chuckled and went on speaking in a familiar tone:

"Don't call me _that_. That's for the rest of the people, but not _you_, Marian." And then he joked: "I'm not that tall, either!"

She smiled at him out of courtesy and then she asked:

"What should I call you then?"

"You may call me _father_." He said joyfully.

But when he saw the smile fade from her face, he wondered what was wrong.

"I'm so sorry…" She hurried to say when she noticed that her sadness was too evident. "I assume you don't know what happened yet."

"What happened?"

"When I arrived in Qarth, they told me that my father – _adoptive_ father, I mean – had passed away." She explained sadly. "I didn't even have time to mourn him that I got the news that two representatives of yours would soon be there to fetch me and take me to King's Landing because you wanted me as your lawful daughter. I didn't even have time to visit his grave. And the next thing I know, a group of guards rebelled and tried to kill me (or kidnap me, who knows?) this very morning… and now here I am. I'm still trying to process everything that's happened."

The king nodded with sadness and understood that it was probably too early for her to start anew.

"Don't worry, Marian." He went on with great concern for her well-being. "You may take your time. And don't worry about the threats on your life. You're highly protected here. I'll tell my spies to find out who wants you so badly and why. You'll be safe here. You can trust me on that one."

"I do, your highness." But then she bit her lip. And he chuckled once.

"You're used to using a _very formal_ form of address, I get it." He went on rather joyfully. "You may use it if it makes you feel more comfortable, Marian. But I expect you to call me _father_ someday."

"Very well, then, your highness." She said with a gentle smile.

"Anyway, Marian, I needed to talk to you about impending matters concerning your future here." He went on as if he had a lot to share with her. "One is that I don't think I'll marry your mother. She has recently sent a note to me assuring me that she's not interested in becoming my wife, or at least doing it to guarantee your own safety. Selfish as it may sound to you, she's always been like that, so I wouldn't worry about her. I have _other_ plans, though. We're not in a dead end, I assure you. And I will reveal them to you, but you must understand that they're _radical_ measures that I've been forced to adopt and that I don't usually react in that fashion."

"What do you mean?" She asked mildly worried.

"I may have a reputation for being cruel, but for the last few years it has been rather difficult to hold on the throne. I've got plenty of enemies." His voice suddenly unveiled his worries and tiredness, as if he was getting old ahead of time. They stopped walking when the king passed by a window and stared blankly at the setting sun, exploding in an orangey orgy of light. His voice felt years older and raspy as he went on: "There is a huge power game going on and you can hardly trust anyone, dear. But the thing is that I plan on murdering the ginger-haired spy, your mother, and then spread a lie that I married her right before she died due to a devastating illness. I plan to make a fake funeral celebration, short but luxurious. I won't be able to boast of a bountiful wedding, but I hope that my brothers will buy the whole thing. _Your_ wedding, on the other hand, will be out of this world, believe me."

"What?" She couldn't believe he was talking so freely about such matters. The more she knew about the power game in King's Landing, the more she hated it: it only reinforced her suspicion that she was just a pawn in a chess game she didn't have any control over.

"You're to marry Robb Stark, Marian." He went on with a smile on his face. "Hasn't he told you anything during your brief stay in Qarth?"

"Not… really." She tried to be evasive because she found that talking about love to the king was quite unsettling. The whole conversation was becoming too unsettling to her. He wondered whether the king actually wanted her to be his daughter and protect her.

"_Hmmm_… I see." He analysed the blushing features of her face. The mention of her wedding with Robb had that effect on her, although the thought of Jon immediately took her to a radically different parallel universe. "Robb is a bit shy towards you, then. Never mind… Once you marry him, I'm sure everything will turn out OK, since my brothers like the Starks and have built solid alliances with them over the years. I don't think they'll betray them. As far as those assassins who tried to murder or kidnap you in Qarth, I have honestly no idea. But I highly doubt any of my brothers has anything to do with it. I hope so, at least. I'll have a group of spies look into it asap."

"I would be very grateful to you if you did, your highness." She whispered gratefully.

"And you should try to make friends among the ladies in court in the meantime. You'll love them, I'm sure of it." He insisted with joy.

"Your highness, may I ask you a couple of questions?" She asked seriously.

"You may. Shoot."

"May I be allowed to continue practising medicine? I love it and it means a lot to me, your highness." She said feeling a huge weight on her shoulders, hoping that the king would understand her intellectual needs.

"Marian, I've also been thinking about that and I honestly don't believe you should. But I'll allow you to treat only the ladies in court if they need it. This is my only concession and you should respect it." He said rather sternly, but faking his mild disapproval. He was enjoying very much the fact that Marian needed him to approve of her doings.

"Thank you very much, your highness." She almost exclaimed with sudden uncontainable amazement. It was a very small concession, probably made for the wrong reason (which was his _will to boast_ of being a good, protective but understanding father), but she would take it. It was better than nothing.

"What about the second question?"

"I was wondering whether Jon would be allowed to stay here, in King's Landing, as a member of the king's guard, or at least be relieved from his fate of joining the Night's Watch." She was speaking too fast and with too much emotion. It was obvious that she wasn't neutral to Jon. "He has done a great job in Winterfell and in Qarth to protect me from any harm. I have the feeling that you hate him, but he's worked very hard to cause a good impression. Besides, regarding what happened in the stables in Winterfell, I have to admit that I…"

"Marian, he's a _bastard_. His place is the Wall." The king insisted dryly. He hated the mere mention of the bastard kid – who was a kid no longer. Jon was a well-bred, tenacious and gorgeous, young man.

"But he's…" She tried to talk sense into him.

"His hard work and his gentleness don't suffice." He concluded harshly. "Bastards go to the Wall or they're left to die of starvation in the streets. And what happened in the stables was a shameful act towards you, Marian."

"But he didn't know that I-" She insisted a bit further.

"No buts, Marian! Tyrion Lannister told us that you admitted that you loved him. What am I to make of this? Do you still do?" He said worried and enraged to her like never before, and when he saw she was blushing a lot, he went on. "You're not denying it, I see. Therefore, I'm sending him to the Wall. Actually, _he's leaving as we speak_, by the way. It's for the best…"

"_What?_" She asked getting paler in a nanosecond.

"And _you_, as a princess, should know that. You have your place in society and he's got his." He went on, but she was no longer listening to him. "It's called being responsible."

She had rushed to the nearest balcony, trying to spot Jon in the multitude of people moving back and forth in the main road out of the city, down below. The warm wind softly combed her hair backwards as she leaned her head a bit forwards. The orange dying light of that late afternoon didn't help her much. Besides, the road was far too crowded and she didn't recognise anyone: their heads were too small in the distance and their movements, too hectic. She realised she would never see him again. Ever.

"It's for the best, Marian. Now come, let's have something to eat. I'm starving already!"


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary**: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC

**Disclaimer**: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)

***I've read and I don't own 50 Shades of Grey. PS: I hate 50 Shades. I like bondage. Not explaining why. End of the story. Just so you know where I get the influence for part of this chapter… ****_and enjoy the show_****! ;)**

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Previously…**

"No buts, Marian! Tyrion Lannister told us that you admitted that you loved him. What am I to make of this? Do you still do?" He said worried and enraged to her like never before, and when he saw she was blushing a lot, he went on. "You're not denying it, I see. Therefore, I'm sending him to the Wall. Actually, _he's leaving as we speak_, by the way. It's for the best…"

"_What?_" She asked getting paler in a nanosecond.

"And _you_, as a princess, should know that. You have your place in society and he's got his." He went on, but she was no longer listening to him. "It's called being responsible."

She had rushed to the nearest balcony, trying to spot Jon in the multitude of people moving back and forth in the main road out of the city, down below. The warm wind softly combed her hair backwards as she leaned her head a bit forwards. The orange dying light of that late afternoon didn't help her much. Besides, the road was far too crowded and she didn't recognise anyone: their heads were too small in the distance and their movements, too hectic. She realised she would never see him again. Ever.

"It's for the best, Marian. Now come, let's have something to eat. I'm starving already!"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 14: Friends, partners or enemies – they all seem equal to me**

"I hope you have a safe journey to The Wall, Jon." Lord Stark told him with regret as they were walking down the huge entrance hall of the palace, which was magnificent, more than Winterfell.

Lord Stark's high hopes that he could actually do something to spare Jon from such a fate had vanished into thin air. The king was determined to hate Jon due to his unfitting social status and the fact that he had fallen head over heels in love with his recently discovered biological daughter.

"All these days…" Lord Stark went on. "I've tried to talk sense into the king, but he's a stubborn kind of man. He wouldn't hear a word about changing your destiny. I'm sorry, boy. I wish I could've make it work out for you."

Had it been any other man that had called him boy, Jon would've punched him in the face. He was a man, not a boy. But it was Lord Stark, his role model, so Jon just tried to ease the tension of his impending farewell with a light smile and a firm hand-shaking with the man he had always adored like a god. The elder man's frame was bathed in the melting gold of the setting sun, and he really looked like a god.

Robb was witnessing the scene right beside them with a dry smile on his face. He even felt it was quite unbecoming of him to react like that, but Robb had far too many words he needed to deliver to Jon's ears in private before he left for good. When Lord Stark said he needed to attend some urgent matters, Jon and Robb were left on their own right at the exit of the palace – and Robb believed he had waited long enough. They were pacing down the outer stairs towards the stables when suddenly Robb spoke thus to his brother:

"Jon, may I ask you to do me a favour before you leave?" Robb asked seriously.

"Sure. What is it?" Jon replied feeling that Robb was just serious because he was trying hard to repress the sadness to see his brother leave.

"Can you please unbutton your shirt?" Robb tried to ask neutrally, but he clumsily failed at it.

At that, Jon raised an eyebrow and believed his sibling to be half-way mad. His favour wasn't going in the direction Jon had thought it would. He had hoped that Robb would just tell him to take care and maybe he'd request a manly hug from him before they would say farewell to each other.

But no. Robb wanted Jon to unbutton his shirt.

"Did I hear you well? Did you just ask me to _unbutton_ my _shirt_?" Jon asked Robb with hesitation.

"Yes, I just did." He said sternly.

"W-why?" Jon asked dumbfounded, swallowing hard because right beneath his shirt there was Marian's necklace.

"Just do it, brother." Robb insisted dryly.

Jon eyed him suspiciously, but he did as told. Right when he was unbuttoning the second button, he hesitated a little bit. He knew Marian's necklace would soon be visible. But he had not a single second to even think about what he could do or say to stop it: Robb suddenly grabbed his shirt and tore it open rashly in a split second. The anger was filtering through every pore of his skin and his eyes were aflame with the most primal of instincts.

"_What's the meaning of this?!_?!" Robb asked with clenched teeth and protruding, anger-flooded veins while getting hold of Marian's sea shell necklace and violently pulling it off Jon's neck.

"Robb, wait… I can explain." Jon tried to calm his brother.

"I'm _dying_ to know, _brother_." Robb couldn't help but spitting out the last word out of his mouth with too much anger. His protruding veins gave a very clear message in that precise direction.

"She gave it to me in Winterfell, _before_ I knew she was a princess." Jon said with a calm voice. "It was just a gift."

"And this?" Robb asked holding the silver ring right in front of Jon's face as if he was accusing him.

"This is the ring I gave to her," Jon replied blushing a bit, but still calm. "which she _refused_ and put in her necklace right before she put it round my neck and… then she knocked me out and left."

"And why do you _still_ have them, pray?" Robb asked enraged beyond any sane measure.

"Because…"

"Choose your words carefully, brother." Robb spat those words out if his mouth before Jon could give him a full answer.

"They were a gift. Why should I give them back?" Jon asked meekly. "Especially the ring. She refused me."

That wasn't _exactly_ the truth, but it was all for the best – or so Jon thought.

"Because I may understand that you _still_ love her, that they are a token of her _love_!" Robb admitted with ire.

"Robb, I'm just about to join the Night's Watch. _Does it really matter now_?" Jon asked hopelessly.

"_Yes_, it does matter, Jon!" Robb replied in anger. "A lot, actually! We're going to get married and I want to know why you still own _this_, hiding it beneath your clothing, and what you were doing in her chambers for so long last night! What am I supposed to think of that, _huh_?!"

"You _can't_ possibly mean that I…" Jon replied a bit offended.

"That's _precisely_ what I mean!" Robb shamelessly interrupted him. "Bearing in mind that we'll become king and queen of Westeros, your actions may be considered as treason! So you'd better start talking… And don't beat about the bushes!"

"She's pure." Jon didn't think twice about it. Spitting out the truth as it was, and calmly, would make it easier for him, but that didn't mean that his words would be trusted, of course.

"Would you swear it upon all the Gods and your honour?!" Robb pushed him.

"Yes, I would." Jon replied firmly.

"Good, now we'll _see_ if you're telling the truth." Robb immediately replied dryly. "_Guards_!"

"_WHAT_?!" Jon exclaimed thunderstruck. "No! Wait! Robb! What's the meaning of this?!" He yelled while two well-built guards roughly grabbed him by both his arms.

"I'm taking some precautions just in case I find out that you're _not_ telling me the truth." Robb answered darkly.

"You _can't _honestly think that I'm lying to you and that I have…!"

Jon didn't dare to finish the sentence, mainly because he was the worst liar alive and the fact that he had _almost_ had sex with Marian. He would've done it if he had had enough time. But he hadn't. That was the whole point. Frustrating as it had been, he felt some sort of relief then, because it meant that Marian was still pure. But…

"How will you know that I'm telling you the truth?" Jon asked him forcing himself to be calm again.

"The Septa will test Marian. They know how to verify a woman's virginity. She'll be notified shortly."

"What will you do with me in the meantime?"

"_Guards_." Robb replied sternly as if those guards knew exactly what to do – and they did.

While they locked Jon up in a dark corner of the jail, Robb decided to pace in the gardens for some minutes to chill out a bit. He had to admit that his jealousy was pushing him to act like a monster. Jon was his brother after all, and he had never meant to harm him. Ever. He was even more loyal than any of the family's direwolves. And Marian had never owed loyalty to the Starks and yet she had always been a guardian angel to every single soul in Winterfell… and a good friend. A really trustworthy friend.

Robb bit his lower lip as the sun slowly died in the orange horizon, thinking whether Jon had told him the truth. He hoped so, but if he had, then how would it make him feel? Jon was used to being misunderstood and distrusted. It was a bastard's life. But Robb was unsure whether he would ever forgive him for this – or whether he would forgive _himself_ for doubting his brother.

It was a first. One of those first times you wished you'd never have to face.

However, the clock was ticking… and Marian would soon be politely told to undergo a physical test on her purity at the hands of the Septa.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In the meantime, the setting sun did no longer cast its rays on the metal bars and thick walls of the cell Jon had been incarcerated in. The jail was too far down below the ground that only the midday sun could reach it.

He had never been in prison before, but somehow he had expected some company to keep him busy during those dull hours of painfully waiting for the test to be run on Marian. Even a nosey cellmate would have sufficed. He would've carved his potential curiosity into Jon's mind and make him confess his worries – and probably make fun of them. Nevertheless, Jon was alone in prison. His only friend was a small cockroach which happened to pass by.

A lonely sigh escaped from his lips as he got a glimpse of the first star in the early night's sky, and he wished he hadn't been such a fool and thought about an escape plan with Marian when they were still in Qarth… or in Winterfell, back in those good old days in which he was blissfully oblivious of the truth of her parentage. Had he convinced her to run away with him in any of those previous occasions, they wouldn't be facing such a painful fate at that moment probably. On top of that, during their last trip on the ship he had refused to spend more time with her thinking that it wouldn't be beneficial to either of them. He had thought that it would look suspicious.

_Bollocks_.

Robb was suspecting him already. Jon should've seen it coming. It would've been their last time together.

But Jon admitted to himself that he could've never foretold his brother's steaming jealousy towards him and his anger-driven control on Marian. It was so unlike Robb to act like that – but he guessed there had never been such an amazing 'prize' into the bargain.

"Anyway," He whispered to his newly acquired small friend with a soft smile dawning on his lips. "I shan't be kept here for long: Marian is pure. I don't need to worry about that." But his gentle smile died as soon as he remembered the hard-core reason why he wouldn't stay eternally locked in. "What really worries me is what I… _will_ do… in the Throne Room, according to the vision I had."

He would kill someone with his sword, deflower her on the throne and kill her with one of her daggers.

The clock was ticking.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The King had taken Marian to his chambers to have a quiet family dinner, but it wasn't a quiet one in Marian's mind. The information that the king had revealed to her had triggered a thunderstorm in her head, and he would never even fathom anything about it. He was too busy digging into a huge roast wild boar. Its smell was mouth-watering, but she could only center her attention on the man in front of her becoming a lowly, hunger-driven beast.

'The king is so decadent that I wonder whether he realises of it.' Marian thought trying to veil her distress. 'Not only by the way he freely speaks of murder or the way he eats like a beast, but also by the way he thinks this is overtly good and normal. I wonder whether he's ever witnessed a single example of a more humane and sane way of treating people or handling difficult situations… _or eating habits_. And he also drinks beyond any healthy measure. I'm amazed that he hasn't already fallen on the floor and died due to alcohol poisoning…'

"Have a bit of it, love!" The king roared to her with amusement. "It's delicious!"

"Thank you, your highness." She immediately replied with too much politeness. "But for the time being I'm enjoying the fruit. The grapes are fabulous."

She really hoped that by adding a nice comment about food would keep him distracted and under the impression that she was feeling good and satisfied instead of disgusted and threatened by him.

'I hope he buys it.' She went on thinking as she kept analysing him and her current state of affairs. 'I can't wait to lose sight of him! My thoughts on him and his real reasons as to why he needs me here in King's Landing have been confirmed. My suspicions about me just being a useful tool to ensure a male heir only need an oral, direct confirmation on his behalf; but the truth is that, according to the plans that he has just unveiled to me a few minutes before, his main interests only roam around his legacy and getting me married to Robb in front of his brothers in a bountiful celebration. And getting Jon out of the equation. That doesn't leave much room for actual love in his plans, neither romantic love with Robb nor father-daughter love between both of us. He hasn't even asked me a single question about my life or my adoptive father or my interests…'

But her wary thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a group of ladies who entered the room giggling.

"Your highness," The eldest began speaking to the king in a very polite form of address and attitude. "we are sorry to interrupt your meal with our presence, but we wondered whether we could share some time with the young princess here. We're dying to get to know her already."

He sudden admission that Marian was a desirably new acquaintance amongst the ladies in the court revealed a sudden passion within Marian's heart. Maybe she could find a trustworthy female friend among those women with whom to share her worries.

"Don't worry about it, Lady Amiss." The king eventually said right after swallowing down a huge bite of roast wild boar. "You may enjoy her company if she's done with dinner, of course."

"I'm not that hungry, your highness." Marian replied not thinking twice about it. Not only would she lose sight of him, but also she would meet new potential friends in that new city. "I'm done with dinner."

"Then you may leave." He answered gently. "Good night."

As the ladies left the king's chambers and walked down the corridor, they started to talk to Marian in a forced amiability, as if something was wrong. She wondered what was really going on, but she couldn't put a finger on it.

"So, your name is Marian, right?" Lady Amiss asked first in a know-it-all attitude.

"It is." Marian replied naively as the other ladies surrounded her as they walked down the corridors.

"Like I said before, ladies, let's go to the gardens." Lady Amiss insisted. "The night's sky is lovely in King's Landing. You'll love it, Princess Marian."

The other girls giggled and Marian tried to smile gently as if she fitted in the group.

"So," Lady Amiss said when they reached an inner patio surrounded by four walls with enchanting stone archways. In the center of it there were rose bushes and orange and lemon trees. Ivies grew from the base of those old stone pillars and rose up to meet the sky. There was also a nice-sized passionflower bush on one side, its huge purple flowers shot their bright colouring into the eyes of the onlooker. "this is it. Look at the night's sky, princess. Doesn't it look lovely from the greatest city in the whole world?"

"It really does, Lady Amiss."

The rest of the ladies giggled again. It was becoming a nasty habit of theirs, and Marian was getting tired of it already.

"What are you giggling about?" Marian asked straightforwardly.

"We've prepared a scavenger hunt, my princess." Lady Amiss replied.

"Yes, a scavenger hunt." A younger lady added right afterwards.

"It's a bit late, but why not?" Marian tried to stay positive about it even though she smelled something fishy.

"In this garden, there's a bunch of clues which will lead you to a final goal." That younger lady who had spoken before said.

"That's right, Lady Bird." Lady Amiss added right after her friend's comment.

"Me? Only me, you say?" Marian asked intrigued.

"Yes. We've done this for you." Lady Bird replied with a strange smile on her lips.

"Well, thank you. It's awfully nice of you…" Marian commented trying to sound nice. She meant it, though.

They giggled once more, but Marian tried hard to ignore it.

"What's the final goal?" Marian asked.

"_Knowledge_… my princess." Lady Amiss answered with too much pride. "Very crucial, _vital_ knowledge. You'll love it, I'm sure."

"_Oh_, good. And where do I start?" Marian asked a bit too naively.

They giggled with more vehemence.

"What? Did I say something funny?" Marian asked at a loss about what was really going on.

"Actually, _yes_, my princess." Lady Amiss replied daringly. "You speak as if you didn't know what's up. _That_ makes it funny."

"What?" Marian asked blindly. "What are you talking about?"

"The hunt has already _started_, Princess Marian." Lady Bird said with cheek. "Go on. Try to figure out what's this all about if you're so clever as they say you are."

"Don't play the naïve girl with us, my princess." Lady Amiss went on with badly repressed anger and pride. "You might be the king's daughter, but that doesn't mean that we're gonna treat you as such, especially bearing in mind that fact that you're a _bastard_ girl."

Silence reigned in the patio. Only a distant star dared to move then, shooting its tail behind in its wake.

"You boast of being so clever and yet you're so _fucking_ naïve…" Lady Amiss continued boasting of knowing Marian's personality beforehand.

All the ladies present except Marian giggled freely at Lady Amiss' comment.

"You'd better take that back, Lady Amiss!" Marian replied seriously, half offended.

"Or what?!" Lady Amiss dared to yell back at Marian. "It's not as though anyone _cares_ about what you can say or do… You're just the cunt which will deliver the next male heir, and as such you've got _no_ power beyond birth giving."

"And should you _not_ give birth to a male child, then you'll see…" Lady Bird added darkly then.

"What are you even talking about? Are you nuts?!" Marian asked not knowing how to handle the situation.

"Hey, this is King's Landing, in case you didn't notice." Lady Bird replied with sarcasm.

"We're not still alive because we care for justice or for people who is weaker than us." Lady Amiss pointed out with severity. "Staying alive here comes at a great cost, meeting the right people at the right moment, making alliances, marrying above your station _regardless_ of your future husband's brutality or moral deviousness, and making great sacrifices to ensure your families' honour. _That's_ what it takes to stay alive here."

"That's why we don't like _newcomers_ like you." Another young lady in their company added.

"That's right, Lady Whitedove." Lady Bird added, revealing the name of another of Marian's new bullies.

"What?" Marian asked, not knowing what to make of this.

She had had high hopes that they would take her side and become friends, but those bitches were far more _bitchy_ than the real bitches Marian had ever met in her entire life. Ross and Winterfell's sluts were far more polite, understanding, trustworthy and gentle than those well-bred, noble women from King's Landing. But then it was pretty clear that they would never become friends.

"We don't like _newcomers_ like you." Lady Amiss repeated.

"_Bastard_ children who think they have a _rightful_ claim on the throne." Lady Bird added sternly.

"People whose blood _isn't _fully noble but who have been well bred and educated." Lady Whitedove interfered.

"You can't be serious!" Marian exclaimed.

"With _higher_ morals and principals." Lady Bird added sarcastically again.

"Who love to _pretend_ they're better than us, _fitter_ _to rule_ than us." Lady Amiss spat out all her venom in those ill-meant words.

"What are you talking about? You're mad!" Marian replied unable to believe her ears.

"If it wasn't for you, the king wouldn't even have doubted Queen Cersei's truthfulness and Prince Jeoffrey _might've_ married _me_…" Lady Amiss added setting her ire fully free. "And then, I would've become queen someday. _But_ _no_: _you_ came along and _caused all their deaths_…"

"Bearing in mind that you're _allegedly_ a doctor, it sounds _awful_, doesn't it? To have their blood on your hands…" Lady Bird seemed to love irony and sarcasm far too much by the way she spoke to Marian.

"You must be kidding me! I didn't cause _anyone's_ death!" Marian tried to defend her honour and her former job as a doctor.

"Let's make this _clear_ once and for all:" Lady Amiss said taking a threatening step towards Marian. "_you're not making friends_ among us, _ever_. And _every single one of us_ is going to make sure you can't make any alliances with _anyone_ in this court. The servants and the guards will serve you because they _have_ to, but as far as the nobles are concerned you're _not_ going to win anyone's sympathy. We have more power than you think. And we have our ways to make the men do what we want. _You're a worthless little piece of _bastard _shit_ – and you know it. So now that you know your place, _you'd better stay quiet_… Or _don't_." She finally said with a funny undertone. "I personally won't mind hearing you _scream_ as Robb Stark tears your hymen apart on your wedding night…"

"_If_ she's still a virgin." Lady Bird added with sarcasm.

"_Yeah_, right." Lady Whitedove joined in.

They went away giggling and laughing at Marian, and soon enough she was left on her own in the patio, much to her relief.

"Now that was the… _craziest…_ bullshit talk I've ever gone through." She whispered to herself feeling a huge relief now that they were gone.

"I'm sorry that they ganged up on you like that, Princess Marian. Although I expected as much to happen." A manly voice said coming from a badly lit corridor with mild, fake exhaustion, but as soon as he spoke again he took a couple of steps forward so that Marian could see him. "Lady Amiss and her friends aren't usually _or genuinely_ friendly, I can testify that myself."

The moonlight shone on him as if he was a friend, not just a stranger. His lean frame and expensive clothing told a tale of a life of books and business, not of battle. His fine nose and nicely shaped moustache revealed a fine taste for manly elegance even though it was obvious that he didn't consider himself to be drop-dead gorgeous – and he wasn't. He was older than her, he was probably in his late thirties or early forties, but he seemed fit. And he moved around the bushes towards her as if he was a fox, cautious and silent, with his eyes fixed on Marian as he came closer and closer to her.

"I do hope Lady Amiss and her girls haven't bullied you much." He went on with half a smile on his face and a warm voice. "She loves to scare away new female servants… or to shame those who decide to stay. She's easily vexed, the Old Gods and the New know why. But you don't need to be scared of her. You're the princess after all."

"One: she hasn't scared the hell out of me. She's _angered_ me." Marian replied trying to regain her usual spunk and rational control. "Two: if she's easily vexed and scares people away, _she's_ got a problem. Not I."

"Very brave on your behalf." His smile broadened and it felt heart-warming to her. "I encourage you to speak your mind out to her the next time. Don't just stand there watching."

"I know." Although she knew he was right, Marian didn't like that last comment very much because it felt somehow controlling on his behalf. It was as if he was hiding something. "But I also know that being a princess or outspoken here won't impress her much. I bet she's quite used to this _power game_."

"_Power game_…" He repeated whispering and then he chuckled, displaying his white canines for a second. "By the way, my name's Lord Baelish, dear princess. Some people also refer to me as 'Littlefinger', although it's not a nickname that I love. I'm the Master of Coin."

"Nice to meet you, Lord Baelish." She said extending her right hand to him, not thinking twice about it.

"Nice to meet you too, dear princess." He whispered with a husky voice as he took her hand and softly kissed it.

Only a brief moment of silence passed by under that lovely moonlight and then Lord Baelish went on speaking.

"I've waited long enough to finally meet you." He said trying hard to veil his excitement. "I didn't trust the former queen. And her offspring turned out to be spoiled little brats like her. I _do_ feel lucky that such a sensible and daring young lady is the heir to the Iron Throne."

Seeing that Marian refrained from talking about the matter as if mentioning it had bothered her, he smiled and tried to change the subject.

"I'm sorry that I mentioned the dead." He apologized, but it felt as though he didn't mean it. "But since I am Master of Coin, I really like to know how people are in order to foresee how much they will spend. It has become a habit of mine."

"Analyzing people to see how much they'll spend. Good thinking, actually. Especially if it's your responsibility." Come to think of it, he had a point. She had to admit it. His strategy might've saved his ass when making ends meet.

"Let me guide you back to your chambers, my dear princess." Lord Baelish said then. His gentleness wasn't second to any of his other psychological traits. "We may talk on our way about the ladies, if you feel like it."

"Sure. Why not?" Marian complied gently.

"I was delighted with the idea of meeting you _partly_ because I was told your striking birth story." He started the ball rolling as they walked to her chambers. "I've always loved exotic people, especially women."

"I'm not as exotic as you may think, Lord Baelish." Marian replied not feeling genuinely _exotic_, as he had just put it. "I don't have strange customs or Gods."

"Maybe." He added politely. "But Qarth is a very rich environment, rich in terms of coin and people. I understand that commerce has made your fellow countrymen quite open-minded and glad to integrate very diverse people in its society. Your tolerance and flexibility towards differences should be quite high. I was looking forward to know your perspective on any matter that might affect the well-being of our country, since you might prove a very useful ally."

"The _power game_ again, _huh_?" Marian concluded with a bit of cheek.

"I won't fool you, right?" Lord Baelish seemed to mean quite to opposite, though.

"Probably not." She didn't want to play with fire. That man seemed to play his cards too well, with too much discretion. Lady Amiss had been far too straightforward, but Marian suspected that King's Landing would have smarter players than her. But she went on speaking: "But you were saying that you wanted to meet me and that it was _partly_ because of that. You have quite pointed it out, actually."

"I have."

"What about the other part, if I may ask?" She asked feeling curious.

"I was _also_ hoping to meet you to ask you a favour." He replied, much to her amazement.

"A favour? We've just met and you're already asking me a favour! Lord Baelish, this is rather forward, isn't it?"

"It is, but the majority of the people who live in King's Landing don't live long enough… for different reasons." He answered quite darkly. "We've been living in peace for so long that we dare to call that _casualties of… peace_." His somber attitude made her freeze for a moment.

"What are you talking about?" She went on suddenly worried. "You know my whole story although we've never met. You _must_ know that I'm a doctor's apprentice – do you mean that there's people who need my medical assistance?"

"Not really, although it would be great to count on you should I request it in the future." He added also worried.

"You may, Lord Baelish." She replied politely.

"Thank you…" His smile felt like a high-volume spirits burning down her throat: nice and warm at the beginning, but branding her and a bit nauseating at the end. But he went on as serious as before. "The _power game_ that you were talking about before is about having the right friendships, my dear princess. Lady Amiss was absolutely right there – and I'm a _master_ at the game. I wouldn't have lived this long if it hadn't been for my connections and my wit."

"I don't need an introduction, Lord Baelish." Marian dared to move forward in the conversation, as if she wanted to be treated like a fully-aware adult. "I'm old enough to know where danger is and how to act accordingly. You've mentioned a favour. I guess that you'll offer me your guidance, protection and connections if I volunteer to help you."

"Quick wit and to the point, my dear princess. _I like it_… This will surely keep you alive long enough around here." He made a crucial pause, but he didn't keep her waiting for long. His smile broadened before he went on. "I know about your dancing performance in Winterfell's brothel. You see, I've got spies everywhere. I can learn _any_ secret from _any_ person I want. And I draw power from that…" He added seriously, but calmly, as if he could actually own people just by knowing their secrets. But then, his tone of voice revived and felt like a joyful, young water spring when he said thus: "_And your blushing is just adorable_. I'll have to make you feel embarrassed more often, my dear princess…"

"I'm not embarrassed." She explained, blushing more, of course. "I just thought that this anecdote would never reach my father's ears." She wondered whether Lord Baelish thought he would ask her _absolutely anything_ now that he knew that secret from her.

"It won't. You don't have to worry about that. Your secret is safe with me. I'm not _blackmailing_ you, I'm offering you a _partnership_." He said seriously.

"A partnership?" She asked amazed.

"Yes, _you and me_. Allies."

"And where do my dancing abilities fit in the whole picture?" She asked frowning a bit, genuinely amused by the man's interests.

"Exactly. You see, I also own a brothel here, in King's Landing. I wanted to expand the business and make it more… _challenging_." He said it feeling the thrill of the entrepreneur. "I wanted to add something new, daring, and impressive to the business. And that's _you_, my dear princess: you'll teach my whores how to dance in the fashion of your home town. It'll through the other brothels out of the game. We'll own the whole city."

"OK, it's not a big deal anyway." Marian accepted right away. She didn't really think it was such a big deal.

"I've only got a question for you, my dear princess." He seemed a bit bothered by what he had in mind to ask her, as if his business and honour depended on her next answer. "My spy was unable to tell me whether you're still pure or not. You see, I want to make sure that you'll be very _well placed_ here in court, that _no one_ doubts you, not even the less worthy of the servants. Otherwise, I won't consider you the perfect ally. And to do so, you have to fit it _perfectly_ in the royal court in King's Landing. A perfect princess is _virgin_. So…" And then he went on a bit sadly, but seriously. "I was told that you had a very close relationship with a man in Winterfell."

"Yes, I did." She admitted blushing a bit as she thought of Jon.

Her dear Jon. His unruly curls, his soft eyes, his shy lips, his rough beard, his broad shoulders, his well-built body and arms, his lean general shape, his… undying love for her.

"Did that close relationship gave way to intercourse?" Lord Baelish asked straightforwardly, without blinking.

"No!" Marian replied all of a sudden, with pride.

"Very well then, my dear princess." He replied with a warm smile when they had reached the door to her chambers. They remained standing as they talked a bit further. "You have to be careful, you see. Your head would fall off very awkwardly if the king knew that you had given your virtue to a man who doesn't deserve you. But you haven't, right? I'm sure that Robb Stark will be such a happy husband by your side."

"Are you telling me that you don't trust my answer?" She dared to ask.

"Whether your virtue is intact or not doesn't really concern me at the end of the day." He answered seriously. "What _does_ concern me is that my partner is telling me the _truth_. You can offer me more political power and a new dancing style to my girls… And in exchange for that, I can offer you a lot more than contacts and guidance, as you've said before. A lot more… Think about it: proud Lady Amiss, imposing her ideas over yours, bossing around the palace as if she owned it… She's not a royal but she acts as if she was one. _You_ should be the one under the spotlight, _not she_. All the other ladies of the court should follow you, not her… You're far more beautiful… and _the princess_, of course. What if I helped you to teach her a jolly good lesson, my dear princess?"

"What do you mean?" She asked whispering, feeling the words roll out of her tongue as if she didn't have control over them.

"Casualties of peace, my dear princess, _casualties of peace_." He said with a dark, sinful smile on his face.

Suddenly, the Septa, a very stern old lady, came around the corner of the corridor and looked pretty pissed off. A whole bunch of novices followed her right behind her, and they didn't look pleased either. Marian wondered what was wrong when out of the blue, the Septa stopped right in front of her, frowned deeply when she realized who Marian was talking to, and then she coughed on purpose once.

"Lord Baelish," She began rather proudly and formally. "can you please excuse us? We need to talk to the princess concerning a private matter."

"Sure. I was leaving anyway. Good night to you, women." He said in a very posh and fake manner to the ladies present. Then he briefly turned to Marian and spoke thus: "And good night to you, my _dear_ princess…"

Marian was unsure whether to trust Lord Baelish or not. He had a point, in _everything_ he had said, but he looked like the devil himself. He had the qualities of both a savior and a menace, and she knew she couldn't separate those two halves. If she wanted (or needed) some help, she'd have to cope with both sides of him at the same time. Nevertheless, she didn't have much time to think about those matters, since the Septa was somehow bothered with her even though it was the first time that they had seen one another. But Marian had an idea.

"My dear Septa, I see you frowning. I've just arrived this late afternoon and I didn't have time to meet you. I didn't mean to be rude to you, though. How are you?" Marian decided to be extremely polite with her.

"I'm fine –thank you– but we _must_ speak of some private matters concerning _you_, Princess Marian." She said in a rush and with mild anger.

"Let me just open the door to my chambers. We'll have some privacy there. Will it suit you, dear Septa?"

"Yes, very well, princess." The Septa replied dryly.

Not long after that, they entered Marian's chambers and sat in a nice sitting room.

"What's wrong, dear Septa?" Marian feared to ask. That late afternoon and early night had brought very tough first meetings and quite harsh first impressions so far.

"I've just been told that you might _not_ be pure, my dear princess." She spit it out as if she was used to doing so.

"What?!" Marian couldn't believe her ears.

"I don't mean to offend you, of course. But I needed to talk to you about it as soon as possible." The Septa went on quite formally. "Are the rumours true, young lady?"

"Of course not! Who's the one spreading such ugly rumours about me?!" Marian asked naturally enraged and offended.

"My sources are trustworthy and you have to understand that I won't reveal them to you."

Of course she wouldn't reveal them. She could only prove her loyalty and worthiness as a servant of the king by gossiping and paying attention to such ill rumours. Since the king wasn't a very religious man, it was far too obvious that the Septa felt useless in court – useless except when there was 'trouble' with young ladies like Marian. That was why she needed to protect her 'sources'.

"But…!" Marian tried to complain. She really wanted to know who started the whole thing. She wanted to kick their asses.

"No buts, princess Marian!" The Septa argued back impatiently.

"Is it Lady Amiss?!" Marian pushed her to confess.

"I said no buts, princess!" The Septa was greatly pissed off, but she was trying to contain her anger because Marian had just arrived that same day. "I know that becoming a princess has been a very recent event in your life, but you have to understand that high-born ladies have _always_ been controlled as regards their virtue. Now, you affirm that you are undoubtedly _still_ a virgin. Is that correct?"

"Of course it is!" Marian shot back with pride, although she had been bothered when Jon refused to get on with it before they would get interrupted for the hundredth time.

"Very well then, princess Marian. You shall undergo a test to prove that you actually are." The Septa concluded matter-of-factly.

"WHAT?!"

"You don't have to worry, Princess Marian. I won't hurt." A young novice added, worried.

"You don't trust me?!" Marian shot back dumbfounded.

"We have to make sure of it." The Septa explained. "The king will demand it as proof against the rumours and then he may want to punish those who spread the lies about you, Princess Marian."

"_The king?!_ He _knows_ about this?! But…" Marian blushed and didn't know what to think of it.

"You have nothing to fear if you're pure, right?" Another novice asked quite meekly and naively.

"I feel so embarrassed right now." Marian replied almost whispering, trying hard to hold her anger at bay.

"It's normal. Others feel as much." Another not so young novice added then, as if she had witnessed other purity tests before.

"It's an offense. A very grave offense to you, Princess Marian." One of the youngest concluded with pride. "But we'll do right by you."

"Even though the test is made in public, you have nothing to be ashamed of." The Septa mentioned.

"IN PUBLIC?! _What the-?!_" Marian's heart was being assaulted by many radical bits of news that day.

"Yes, in _public_:" The Septa went on. "the king, your fiancé Robb Stark, Lord Stark, other ladies and lords in the court, and the ones gathered here tonight, of course. You shall be isolated behind several layers of high-standing panels of white, thick bed sheets all around you. No one will see you naked but us. The rest of the people present will only hear us talk and deliver the verdict at the end of the test, Princess Marian."

"Can't it be made in private at least? Why not the king and… _us_ only?" Marian asked, trying to make it less of a painful event.

"I'm sorry, but the rules of the purity test are quite strict." The Septa replied sternly. "Otherwise, the rest of the members of the court might think that you have something to hide."

The Septa had said that last bit with far too much darkness, cheek and pride, so much so that it felt like a direct accusation, but Marian put on a brave face and replied daringly.

"I have NOTHING to hide."

"Very well, then. Tomorrow at dawn."

Not long after that, the Septa and the other novices went to sleep in their own chambers and left Marian on her own. Dubious thoughts were rallying in her mind, fighting for the foremost place of dominance in her long list of worries.

'Great. Great. _Great_. This is just _great_.' She thought feeling her distress take over her rational control. 'A mysterious enemy bribes half the guards in Qarth and plans an attack at the docks because he (or she) wants me dead. Robb is my newly acquired fiancé, but he keeps acting a bit weird lately and I don't know why. The king doesn't want me to go on studying and practicing medicine the way I did before – and I still don't know whether I can fully trust him or not. He probably only wants me to get a male heir for the next generation. Lady Amiss and the other ladies of the court hate me to the core and they're surely behind those ill rumours that I'm no longer a virgin. On top of that, the Septa is really pissed off at me as if I was a born trouble-maker. And Lord Baelish looks too much like a coin of his. I really think he's got two faces: the helpful partner and the evil mind behind the game… And Jon has just been forced to leave and join the Night's Watch, leaving me behind for good… All in one single _fucking_ day! _Great_. Just _great_. Friends, partners or enemies – they all seem equal to me.'

It would prove to be a very long night with restless or little sleep.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In the meantime, King Robert was having a jolly good time in his chambers.

"Yeah, that's right, _luv_…" He whispered with exhaustion, lying stark naked on his bed.

"It feels so good…" She moaned freely on top of him. His tits bounced up and down with joy, and some of her ginger curls had fallen from her loosened bun.

The window was partly open, letting some fresh air come in in that hot night. The curtains moved gently and floated in the air from time to time. The bed sheets were wrinkled and messed up on the floor right beside the king's bed.

"I've told you _not_ to be so loud, Lady Bird…" He said as if he was tired of repeating himself, but he loved fucking girls who were far younger than him. She was exactly the same age as his daughter, but she was already married – to one of those men who _preferred_ the company of other men, or so she had told him. "Or I'll have to _punish_ you."

"_Mmmh_…" She replied coyly as he caressed the vivid red marks of her back, which he had softly flogged some days before, while he went on fucking her.

Of late he had deviously thought of punishing the whores and ladies he 'slept' with, because regular intercourse was getting rather boring. For starters, whores loved to put on an act of how big his manhood was and _blah, blah, blah_… – and he had abhorred it already.

One word. Two syllables.

_BO-RING._

He found it boring. It was always the same old story. That's why he had started fancying one unattainable, high-born – married or not – lady after another, so much so that he had had 'secret' affairs with the majority of the ladies in court _simultaneously_. Of course, they were more than glad to comply with the king's commands since he had promised them jewels, expensive clothing and more political power if they agreed to 'sleep' with him. Naturally, chasing ladies like that eventually turned out to be quite an easy task because they swooned and adored him from the very start, to the point that he eventually lost all interest in doing it. He fucked and fucked and fucked… and paid unbelievably high-priced bills for earrings, necklaces, dresses, shoes, and every single _fucking_ whim of every lady in court with whom he fucked. Obviously, all the ladies vowed to keep their 'romance' as a lovely sinful secret until they would die. He made sure of it.

A few months ago, one night proved to be quite restless when a young servant found the corpse of one of those high and mighty ladies in the stables. Nobody knew what had actually happened to her.

Nevertheless, he had eventually lost all interest in the chase and in paying such bills. In spite of that, his dick was in override mode most of the time, ruling his body and soul every single night. His physical needs couldn't be ignored, but he still wanted something more out of sex. He needed to do something.

That was why he envisioned his girls in extremely nasty situations and then he tried to make them undergo such painful experiences during intercourse with him. He never revealed the truth to them: the fact that he was bored would've made them angry, to be sure. He just argued that he felt excited by doing such things to them, that they looked lovely feminine when they were punished by him – _and they bought it. _They would be willing to do absolutely anything to comply, because the king would reward such loyalty with more riches and power. Eventually, of course, he would find any stupid excuse to punish them – or they _made sure_ they did something for which it would be too easy to get punished.

"I'm _sooo_ sorry for being loud, my king. I couldn't help it." Lady Bird added whispering feebly, shamelessly faking her worry for having upset the king. "Can you please forgive me?" She whispered in abandon as she kept on moving her hips on his.

"You know _my_ rules…" He whispered back with cheek.

"_Oh, my king_!" She gasped as he fucked her harder just once.

And then he stopped fucking her abruptly.

"Stand up." He said coarsely.

She did as told trying not to show a devious smile on her face. One of the rules was not to display that they loved being told what to do and being punished. Otherwise, it would mean further punishments – which they also loved, but mostly they preferred to do one thing at a time, step by step, as if it was a little game of their own.

"Let's go." He commanded. "You know what you have to do."

They went to an adjoining little room which had been secretly devised as a "punishment room", but should anyone bump into it and open the door, they wouldn't think of it as such. The setting had all been devised as if it was just another bedroom. The punishing instruments were most mundane: spoons, forks, knives, tea cups, bed sheets, bottles, etc., such common objects, so normal and easy to find them or use them every day, that they kept the ladies thinking about intercourse with him and they made them stupidly horney every single minute of every day.

That was why Lady Bird went into that adjoining bedroom without hesitation or shame. King Robert slowly followed. That night he had thought of a test she should pass, or else she'd get her ass spanked or her back flogged again. Like four nights ago. He smiled a devil's smile as he remembered it. She looked lovely when she cried and screamed under his painful ministrations.

"My king, what have you got for me tonight?" Lady Bird asked meekly. "Spanking? A drinking game? Dirty dancing? A good old BJ?... Or flogging again?"

"Something new, my _deer_."

He loved hunting puns. She couldn't help smiling at him, though briefly.

"You can't smile, remember? You're _not_ supposed to like it."

"_Oh, my dear king_, what shall become of me?" She said faking her concern. "I'm a no-hoper."

He smiled back at her as he came closer and closer to her.

"The spoon game." He said with a husky voice.

"_Oooh_. New game." She whispered back with curiosity. "What does it entail?"

"You have to carry little spoonfuls of pepper from one full plate to another empty one, placed in two opposite places of this room. Once you've finished transporting all the pepper, you shall be free."

"That's too easy, my king."

"Wait for it: you can't hold the spoon with either of your hands. You'll have to do it with your teeth and lips, crawling on the floor with your beautiful hands and knees… naked. And I'll watch you in the meantime."

"Fair enough, my king." She replied coyly.

"Don't forget not to _sneeze_, my dear." He said with a devious smile of his which turned her on. "If you drop a single spoonful of it, I'll make it more _difficult_ for you to carry the pepper. And then you _may_ have problems."

"Oh, what will you do then?"

"That's an ace up my sleeve."

"Let's just hope that I don't mess it up, then, right?" She said tantalizing him.

"Oh, you'd better watch out, my luv."

And that was how the task began. She kneeled on the floor in front of a full small plate of pepper and tried to get the spoon more or less full carefully using her teeth and lips to move the spoon. It was harder than she thought it would be, but she did it. Then, she slowly turned around, being extremely careful not to drop it. She didn't want to do it wrong from the start: part of the game obviously involved her doing the 'right' thing to appease his anger, and only later… she _could_ be a bit clumsy.

As she crawled onwards to the empty plate on the other side of the room, her tits moved as he watched the show intently and sipped from his large glass of red wine. Not long after that, she successfully delivered the first spoonful of pepper, but then she had to come back for more.

King Robert spurred her to go on with lousy, sexually-overt comments. He wasn't a brilliant man when it came down to talking. Refinement in oratory was for the learned type of man. He was better than that – or so he though, of course: he was a warrior and an experienced hunter, the type of man who _really_ knows how to handle a woman in bed. Or on the floor. Or _anywhere_.

"Get on with it already, _little bitch_." He had never called her a bitch, but she moaned a bit after that – and she found that she liked being insulted when she was trying hard to satisfy him. "The longer it takes, the harder I'll _fuck_ you later."

The clock was ticking, she thought as she crawled back to the full plate, sending a brief smirk to the carpet on the floor as she felt her wet folds ache in anticipation. Lousy, and quite drunk by then by the way, as he was with his comments to her, she couldn't help, though, getting horney. She felt it in the nature of her subdued roleplaying.

"Good girl, luv… By the Old Gods and the New, I'd fuck you right here and now." He growled trying hard to contain himself. "If only you'd behave yourself… I wouldn't have to punish you like this."

He was only saying this to tempt her, to tease her. She couldn't answer. Not because of the spoon in her mouth, but because the king's rules during a game or a punishment were very specific when it came down to letting her speak: she wasn't supposed to, except with direct permission on his behalf, of course.

"_Mmmh_…" She only replied moaning coyly, as if begging him to take advantage of her right there and then, in front of the full plate of pepper silently waiting for her, as if she needed him to end her allegedly debasing agony.

"You're not supposed to answer." He said darkly and then he slowly bit his lower lip. "I'll have to make the task _harder_ for you now… _You deserve this, bad girl_."

Having said that, he rose from his seat to get closer to her. When he stood right behind her, she tensed up and he commanded:

"Stop moving." He said with a dry voice. She did as told immediately. "Put both your hands behind your back." She did it without hesitation. "More… Let me see how you touch your elbows, like this…"

And he pulled both her forearms, binding them together with his strong, calloused hands, until she could touch her elbows with either of her hands. Then, he proceeded to tie her wrists and forearms with his thick leather belt. She felt like dying to be touched where it ached her the most, right between her legs.

"Now, you'll have to continue your task without using your hands to crawl. What about that now, _huh_?" He asked daringly, gently spanking her naked ass once, which made her roll her eyes in abandon.

But she couldn't waste much time relishing in the dirty pleasure he was giving her, because she had to go on. One spoonful after another, she carried the task out flawlessly, until she decided to push his patience a bit further: she pretended to accidentally drop a bit of pepper due to an unexpected sneezing.

"You naughty little slut…" He commented harshly. "You'll _never_ learn!"

Therefore, he went to her again and tied a leather collar for dogs round her delicate neck, with a book tied on a string which hung from it, making her balance unstable every single time she moved.

"This will make it a bit more difficult to you, right?" He asked with cheek. "How does that feel?"

As he asked that last question, he dared to gently touch her aching wet folds just once with the tip of one forefinger. She had to drown a scream down her throat and almost collapsed. But she had a task yet to fulfil. He spurred her to go on, but this time it was really difficult not to mess it up.

In fact, she dropped the next spoonful of pepper genuinely by accident, and King Robert had had enough. So he grunted, rose from his seat and stormed to her.

"I've had enough, little bitch. I shall have you _now_."

And he kneeled behind her to fuck her hard and rough. She moaned freely and shamelessly.

"You like that, don't you?" He said between gasps of fury.

She couldn't answer.

The Septa couldn't either.

"_What the-?!_" The king roared with a dying voice when he realized that the Septa had found them doing it – in such a devious style.

Lady Bird's face grew paler and paler when she saw the Septa's horrified and disapproving face.

"What's going on in here?!" The Septa asked with a thin, shaken voice.

"What the hell are you doing here in my private chambers, _woman_?!" The king roared furiously, as if he was insulting her.

"And what is _Lady Bird_ doing here in your private chambers _like that_, your highness?!" The Septa roared back with fierceness, which left the king speechless and belittled by her. "I'm not supposed to chide you, your highness, but I expected better manners from our king! _This is most unacceptable_! And you, young lady, I'm also talking about you! If betting was an acceptable pastime, I'd bet all my savings and honour that you _consented_ to this!... We shall have a little talk once you get dressed! Now…"

She tried to calm herself because she had come to deliver an important message to the king.

"Now, your highness," She went on a bit calmly then. "I've come here tonight because I have very important news to deliver to you."

"News? What's happened?" He asked annoyed.

"Robb Stark has doubts as regards Princess Marian's virginity, and I have my own too." She replied serious as hell.

"WHAAAAAT?!" The king roared back unable to believe this.

"We have agreed to make Marian undergo a purity test tomorrow at dawn if you agree to it too." The Septa went on harshly. "_We need this_, your highness. The Iron Throne could be at stake."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary**: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC

**Disclaimer**: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)

**_Note: I really wanted to reply to the anonymous readers who give feedback, but since I'm not allowed to do so if you don't have a user or you don't log in, this brief note will do (I hope!)._**

**_Why is Marian suddenly helpless and rather naïve in the last few chapters? Simple. I wanted to kick her out her own throne. She has worked things out on her own, in a badass way sometimes, which is cool. Yeah. Basically too good to be true – and too fucking easy. How about making it extra tough for her so that she feels like a fish out of water? She's a fish, a cool fish, but this ocean's full of sharks, by the way. She's used to living life in a certain way, giving her too much confidence perhaps, so I destroyed that and I've been toying with her all along. She's been sieged by a lot of issues/people already, but there are darker things ahead._**

**_Am I cruel? Certainly. Can I dare to compare myself with George R. R. Martin? HA, I wish! Will she evolve and rise again like a phoenix? Who knows… ;) You will have to keep on reading if you wanna know the answer!_**

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Previously…**

"And what is _Lady Bird_ doing here in your private chambers _like that_, your highness?!" The Septa roared back with fierceness, which left the king speechless and belittled by her. "I'm not supposed to chide you, your highness, but I expected better manners from our king! _This is most unacceptable_! And you, young lady, I'm also talking about you! If betting was an acceptable pastime, I'd bet all my savings and honour that you _consented_ to this!... We shall have a little talk once you get dressed! Now…"

She tried to calm herself because she had come to deliver an important message to the king.

"Now, your highness," She went on a bit calmly then. "I've come here tonight because I have very important news to deliver to you."

"News? What's happened?" He asked annoyed.

"Robb Stark has doubts as regards Princess Marian's virginity, and I have my own too." She replied serious as hell.

"WHAAAAAT?!" The king roared back unable to believe this.

"We have agreed to make Marian undergo a purity test tomorrow at dawn if you agree to it too." The Septa went on harshly. "_We need this_, your highness. The Iron Throne could be at stake."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 15: ****Pure ice, pure fire**

Dawn came with pride, and the sun owned the sky with its mighty rays. Marian, who had barely slept even though she had nothing to worry about, was peacefully resting her head on her palms on the railing of the balcony of her bedroom as she stared at the rising sun. She was a virgin, she would prove it in a minute, and that _hopefully_ would be the end of the crisis.

End of the _fucking_ drama. But those mean ladies of the court in King's Landing would soon find some other reason to bully her – she was absolutely sure about it. It wasn't over. On the contrary.

But that wasn't her number one priority, she had to remember that. As she stared at the rising sun, she became stern and admitted that she was sick and tired of being told what to do just because _allegedly_ her safety was at stake. And it was, but the more she thought of it, the more she realized that she was also being used like a tool. Her aching, frowning eyebrows kept a firm pose which never seemed to fade. She wondered whether she might come up with a gloriously brilliant idea to save her ass, like in the good old times. She had to admit that her recent circumstances had made her become a meaningless lady in distress – and she hated it. All that helplessness… All that relying on somebody else… Even though she loathed how events had unfolded in her life in the last couple of days, she firmly believed that her dear old, brave, witty self was still in her – astounded or dormant (or both), just waiting for a shiny idea to take shape in her mind. She needed to come up with something.

Could she just run away?

'No, I can't just run away, although I wish I could.' She thought calmly. 'The king has a lot of spies. They would eventually find me, and then what? They'd drag me here once more. Robb would put a wedding ring round my finger and a child in my womb. I feel as if I've got no other option…'

She sighed, but in the meantime and not long after that private moment of reflection, the white bed-sheet panels had already been hung in the Throne room. It looked stunningly huge in the timid light of morning, but all the people gathered there that day were unimpressed. They were used to all that grandeur and splendor – but Lord Stark and Robb weren't. Their astounded eyes roamed all over the enormous room, taking in all the details as they chatted with the king.

Not far from them, the Septa and her novices were busy getting ready to perform the test in the centre of the Throne room. A few minutes elapsed and the king was growing impatient. Marian had not yet been allowed to be present there, although she was ready, waiting outside the Throne room beside four guards and novices.

King Robert was sitting on the Iron Throne and he looked pretty pissed off. He kept on eyeing at the Septa quite suspiciously, almost as if her presence gave him a huge headache. He was obviously disgusted with the current situation, but he hoped it would clear any doubts on Marian – but he would never share the real reason as to why he was so grumpy and annoyed: last night's interruption of his 'leisure' activities on the Septa's behalf was something that the king was not willing to tolerate. The bags under his eyes were strangely darker in colour, sad like an old clown, and its skin was drier and it looked tired. On the whole, he looked a lot more tired than usual.

On the other hand, Lord Stark stood next to his dear old friend and looked fresh like a rose, but the look of worry wouldn't forsake his eyebrows. He was unsure his son had made a sensible move, but he didn't know about Jon's imprisonment, of course. No one did apart from Robb and those two guards who imprisoned him. In the meantime, Robb had his own doubts. Ever since his argument with Jon, he had regretted it to the core. But he tried to be cool about it, especially now that he could not undo it. He hoped that the apologies he had already thought of would be accepted, and that everything would turn out well in the end. The uneven beats of his heart told a different story, though.

"We are ready to perform the purity test, your highness." The Septa proclaimed loudly so that everyone could hear her.

Lord Baelish was present too, smiling as though he already knew the outcome of that fateful event. He seemed to enjoy it a great deal, but he kept a low profile, like he usually did. Lady Amiss, Lady Whitedove, Lady Bird and the other ladies were there too, like their husbands and the rest of the nobles, waiting impatiently. In spite of the general cheerful and gossipy attitude, Lady Bird looked rather afraid and contained. She wouldn't dare to look straight at the king or the Septa. She felt it hard to breathe, so much so that she thought that her corset was tied too tightly around her slim body.

"We are ready." The Septa yelled formally then.

"We are ready." The novices yelled dryly right after her.

Then, the guards opened the huge double doors and Marian entered the Throne room accompanied by those four guards and novices. She was wearing a really nice blue long dress, very King's Landing in style, and also golden jewelry. She kept walking forward to the centre of the Throne room with pride and angry strides – she wanted to appear like the strong young woman that she was. And she hoped that they all would soon taste their own bitter medicine, especially those pride-driven, narrow-minded ladies of the court. She had had an idea that very same morning, right before coming to the Throne room. They wouldn't see this one coming.

'I have to remember that King's Landing is different.' Marian reminded herself of the truth she had recently learned while the audience started whispering their hurtful comments to each other. She just eyed them suspiciously. 'Lord Baelish, though mysteriously generous and Machiavellian, was right. Therefore, I have to be extremely careful. I can't treat these people the way I used to treat others before them. This isn't Winterfell or my dear old Qarth. I have to shield myself like never before. I have decided that, though it might be hard, I have to trust absolutely NO ONE here. They might try to lie to me, take any benefit from me, or kill me to get rid of me. Lord Baelish included. I'm not buying his alleged honesty and good will. I shan't allow to be treated like that. The more I distrust them, the safer I'll be. And then, I'll…'

"SILENCE!" The Septa roared to the rest of the people. She was sick and tired of all their gossiping and whispering. They fell silent instantly, even though she had earned some pretty annoyed glares. She wasn't really loved among the members of the community.

Suddenly Marian's eyes fell on Robb's, and she got tense and unbelievably angry at him. She was clueless as regards who had told that nasty rumour to the Septa, but her current mood of distrust just took over. Robb just blushed as he stared back at her. He couldn't take his eyes off her and her stunning look. Even though she was obviously pissed off, she just looked gorgeous in that deep blue silk dress with golden earrings, necklace and bracelets. Luxury might feel just right on anybody, but on Marian any expensive item looked like nothing. Nothing could add more beauty on her.

'She must know that I started this.' Robb thought then with unbearable sadness, guessing wrong that she was only pissed off at him because of what he had said about her virtue. 'I guess I deserve it.'

But then, Marian disappeared right behind the white panels, guided by the Septa and her novices. The test started immediately. She took all of her clothes, and the Septa and the novices examined her. A few minutes later, the audience was starting to get impatient again, but then the Septa appeared again before them. Her face didn't give away anything: she was a wall of seriousness and duty. She was drying her hands with a white towel when she faced the king and then, serious as hell, she spoke thus:

"Princess Marian is pure."

The audience roared happily and with joy, even though they didn't mean it. Almost everybody there had secretly hoped for a nasty revelation that would surely unleash an amazingly huge amount of nasty comments. At least, the men hoped so, because their wives, though beautiful and gentle they could be ruthless butchers in social terms, would have someone to pick on that wasn't themselves then.

"No surprises there, right son?" Lord Stark told his son Robb whispering, meaning to be neither rude nor chiding, just polite and calm.

"Right." Robb replied in the same fashion.

"Good!" The king roared. "So, on what did you base your distrust of her virginity, Robb?" He asked rudely, wrath filling the air in his lungs.

At that, Robb got paler and paler. He didn't know what to answer, and he suddenly envied a passing bluejay which flew away from the nearest window and soon was out of sight. Its freedom was what Robb wanted for himself right at that fateful moment.

"Please, your highness." The Septa reacted quickly when she saw that Robb regretted having told her his honest doubts. "Robb told me that he had overheard a low servant insist on the idea to another fellow servant, but when he told me about it I just told him that he shouldn't worry about it at all, that I'd take care of it personally. And I already did: I had that stupid servant girl flogged for saying such dirty things. Either way, Robb and I decided to let you know and to carry out the test should those stupid rumours have reached the wrong set of ears. Better be safe than sorry, your highness."

The Septa could be really efficient with words, let them be part of delivering the truth or a lie, like she had just done. Robb sighed, partly relieved that his ass was spared from the king's wrath.

"Very well, then." The king seemed to be satisfied. "It's all for the best, then. But of course my dear daughter is pure! By the way, was the princess upset by all this?"

Lord Baelish, who stood close enough to listen to the conversation – which wasn't meant to be a secret one, anyway –, raised an eyebrow and paid a lot more attention.

"A lot." The Septa confessed to the king with tiredness. "It's only natural, poor girl. She couldn't help but taking this personally."

"Tell her that I'll compensate this to her." The king said calmly, feeling extremely generous. "I shall buy her _anything_ she wants." He added as if it meant nothing, as if he could do that every single day of his life.

Lord Baelish didn't like that one bit, although he knew that Marian would find that idea ridiculous. He knew that all she would ever want in her life wasn't something anyone could buy with money. Even King Robert would know that if he had paid a bit of attention to her story, her personality and her actual needs.

"I don't need _any_ compensation, your highness." Marian's voice roared fiercely throughout the Throne room as if a heat wave wanted to meld the thick marble walls of the room. She was surprisingly calm and serious, though.

Lord Baelish was the only one to smile at her bold reaction. The others were flabbergasted, including those mean ladies of the court, who had thought of her as a meek, sterile-minded, little girl. They even stopped gossiping to each other and stared at Marian as she came closer to the king with powerful strides, making the Septa take some steps backwards.

She had just heard the entire conversation while she was getting dressed again, and that was why she was then looking at Robb as if she wanted to actually kill him. He could only stare at her bottomless-cliff mighty eyes and swallowed hard as he silently prayed for mercy on her behalf. But instead of approaching to Robb and directing all her fury to him because of his lack of tact and trust towards her, she addressed the king's offer thus:

"Any other lady in my position would be _delighted_ to be given _anything_ she might ask for, _but I'm not an ordinary woman_." She said seriously and formally as she took a menacing glimpse of certain ladies in the audience. Thanks to her determination to distrust everybody, she felt her good old, usual spunk empowering her once more.

"Then tell me, what can I do to appease your anger?" The king asked her, taking for granted that she had to be given or told something so that she'd be satisfied.

"_Nothing_. I shall be angry because I want to." She replied straightforwardly.

Silence. Only King Robert began shaking his head in disapproval.

"Now, my dear daughter, _don't_ be childish…" He tried to instill sense in her. His tiredness shone through his voice.

"No, I'm not being childish, _my dear father._" Good Old Gods, the princess was angry. Really angry. But she hadn't lost it: she was calm and serious all the time. She was completely aware of what she was saying it and why. "Just tell me something now: what would've been your backup plan if I hadn't just been proved to be a virgin still? Let me remind you that I'm your _only_ option."

"I would've defended your honour and I…" He said trying to defend himself before her.

"And you let a rumour like this go out and about," She went on, cutting his speech as if she didn't care to listen to the _bullshit_ of an answer that he was giving her. So, she went on sternly: "denigrating me, on my very first day here. Spread by my husband-to-be, to be more precise. _Unbelievable_. Are you all mad? Don't you realize that your people might _hate_ me if they believe this? They don't trust me. They have no intention to. They don't want me here. I've _already_ been told that."

"_Don't be ridiculous_! You're loved around here, my little…" The king tried to appease her, underestimating the power of those words she had just uttered.

"I'm deadly serious." She went on fiercely. "If they hate me, they might want me dead. It won't matter whether I'm a virgin or not. Does that sound good enough to you? How will you protect me from this?" She asked with reason on her side, with anger but still calm.

"Marian, relax, you're taking this the wrong way." The king insisted, and then he addressed his guards and told them to make the rest of the nobles go away and carry on with their duties. "Just relax, OK?"

He didn't want all the court to listen to that conversation. It would soon grow into an argument about the welfare of the whole kingdom – and his young daughter was winning the argument already. Obviously, he didn't want everybody to witness that.

"I'm perfectly calm and everybody here can see it." She was calm. Unbearably calm from the king's point of view. "It's _you_ who's sweating profusely right now. Because you obviously have no idea how to handle this."

"Now, Marian, please…" He insisted.

Soon after that, the king, Marian, Robb and Lord Stark were left on their own. The guards had already made the rest of the nobles go out of the Throne room.

"How about looking for the people who wants me dead?" She asked all of a sudden. "The ones who attempted to kill me in Qarth? Did you at least give the proper orders so that their lives are forfeit? Have you got any suspects yet?"

He hadn't, of course. He had been too busy eating dinner and later fucking Lady Bird to remember that he had to deal with that. He had completely forgotten about the whole thing. He bit his lower lip in an accidental admission of his guilt, and then he realized he wasn't acting like a _proper father_… or like a _proper king_.

"You haven't. Great. Great… _Just great_." She insisted with a sarcastic voice then. "I _totally_ approve that you're wasting your time with a _stupid_ purity test on me. It's obvious to everyone now that you just care that I marry asap and give you a male heir to the bloody Iron Throne. I thought as much when I was told the truth in Qarth! You don't even care about who I really am or what I do with my life. You don't care about me as a person, you just want to make sure you get out of a thorny situation involving your legacy and the Iron Throne. You even had the indecency to tell me about how you'll deal with any opposing force last night, right before dinner. Is that how you deal with people around here? Really? I can see where this is going. In the end, when I'm no longer useful, you'll _dispose_ of me, as _cleanly_ as possible. _I'm not dumb_!"

She was partly scared to say such things, not only because it could be considered rude, but also because it meant showing her cards when the game had barely started. Admitting that she knew she'd eventually be 'taken care of' as if she would become an useless item if she gave birth to a male heir was a rough, hurtful truth and an ultimatum on her relationship with the king, her father.

"What are you talking about?" Lord Stark asked her, not knowing what she was referring to.

Then, she stared right at him and spoke seriously and politely to him, as usual.

"Lord Stark, you, above all these people, do you honestly think I'm stupid?" She asked him.

"Right now, the only one who feels stupid is _me_, because I have no idea what you're talking about." He replied naively.

"We need to have this conversation in private, the princess and me, please." The king told his dear old friend and his son feeling tired.

"No." She roared back at him. "They _have_ to know, if they don't already. At least I want to know whether they do or not."

"Know what?" Lord Stark was growing impatient, which was odd in him. He feared the worst, bearing in mind that Marian was a clever girl who spoke up whenever she didn't like anything.

"Do you know that my biological mother won't marry him?" She asked Lord Stark straightforwardly.

"Yes, I do." He replied formally. "I read the note she sent confirming precisely this."

Robb stared at his father with bewilderment. Apparently, a lot was going on around him and he had barely noticed it, not to mention that he had imagined that his father would and should have shared this delicate information with him. After all, he had to know because he was getting married to Marian.

"Do you know" Marian went on as serious as before. "that King Robert is planning on _murdering her anyways_ and spread a lie that they had actually got married in secret, but then she had suddenly died right after that?"

"No, I didn't know that. I knew he had something else planned, but…" Lord Stark admitted whispering feebly, not willing to tell his son or Marian about King Robert's original plan of murdering her after their _actual_ wedding. The only difference was that there would've been a real wedding. But at least Ned Stark had hoped that his dear old friend would count on him to tell him his new plan.

"Do you know" She went on, in the same tone of voice. "that he wants to celebrate a _bountiful fake burial ceremony_ for her so that he can boast of his dead wife in front of his brothers?"

"No, I…" Lord Stark was appalled.

"Would you consent to this, bearing in mind that your eldest son is to marry me, which means that _this_ _sort_ _of man_, the king, will become his father-in-law?"

"Well, I…" He replied hesitatingly.

"Do you know" She asked him not willing to listen to a full answer on his behalf. "that he hasn't made a single move to find the responsible behind the attempt of murdering me?"

"Seriously, your highness… You can't possibly…" Lord Stark didn't dare to finish the sentence as he took into the look of guilt of his dear old friend.

"Do you know that, instead of doing so, he was fucking one of the ladies of the court?" She went on with her rather long list of questions. "Not only is she married, but also she's got the same age as me."

"_What_?!" Both Lord Stark and Robb yelled, dumbfounded.

Marian had been told the truth by one of the novices before they had entered the Throne room, only a few minutes before. It had made her blood burn.

"_I'm so proud of him_!" She added sarcastically in the end.

"OK, let me tell you all something:" The king roared back as if he had had enough of it all already. "I'm _also_ mad. I'm mad at Robb for having accused my daughter of _not_ being pure! _How about that, huh_?!"

"This _isn't_ a competition on who is the worst around here, _father_." She dared to reply with anger, but she was still speaking with a normal volume. Robb felt those worst hurt him right in his heart: he had never meant to upset her. He just wanted her badly, he ached to have her, to love her, to _make_ love to her. But she went on speaking with her ruthless calmness, like before: "But you don't have to worry about that, your highness. I'll deal with Robb _myself_ when I'm finished with _you_…"

Her undying eyes burnt their retinas with their mighty fire. The three men swallowed hard. Marian could feel imposing when she wanted to.

"Well, I'm also mad because you obviously don't trust me!" The king eventually roared back again, with less strength then, though.

"How can I when you treat people like pawns?!" She shot back at him.

"I would _never_ treat you like a pawn!" He replied in anger.

"You already have and you can't deny it!" She immediately answered back. "You just want me to stay quiet, get married and then pregnant! Apart from that, I don't have _any_ value to you! At all! Because at the end of the day I'm your _bastard daughter_ and nothing more!"

"That's not… true." The king replied with tiredness.

"Then how come you don't make a single move to protect me? Or to get to know me, at least?" She asked with indignation. Then, she sighed with tiredness also. "You don't _because I don't interest you_. That's why. Ever since you've been told that I'm your only daughter, a _bastard_ nonetheless, I _never_ have interested you beyond what I can offer to you, and I _never_ will. I'm not a person you want to relate to, to care for." And then she eventually yelled with bitterness: "You only care about food, _fucking whores_, and the bloody Iron Throne!"

The worst silence that they had ever experienced filled the Throne room. None of the men said a single thing, because she was a fearful thing to behold and because she was so bloody right. She just breathed hard for some time, as she tried to regain her former seriousness and calmness.

"And you," She addressed her pale and scared husband-to-be in an anger-driven voice once more. "now I get why you were acting weird ever since you came to fetch me in Qarth, especially on our trip here: _you were doubting my honour_. I've _never_ been so disappointed in my entire life. _Never_."

And with that, she turned around and left the Throne room, slamming the double doors as she came out. Robb couldn't help but think that she didn't deserve to be treated like that – and not only did he feel ashamed and angry at himself, but also sad, unbearably sad, because he had failed the only woman he had ever fallen in love with.

She was right in her amazing fit of well-contained anger. She was _pure fire,_ and she was willing to burn him if it was necessary.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Not long after that, Marian went strolling in the palace gardens. She needed some fresh air. The morning breeze, rising from the sea, felt really refreshing as she stopped for a moment to stare at the sea from a small gazebo overlooking the huge mass of water down below. Her dark curls floated aimlessly around her. She sighed one lonely sigh and stared at the powerful hue of the sea, so deep and so blue that it offered some degree of comfort to her then. The sun shone bright and strong, and its heat penetrated all the pores of her exposed flesh.

'I've put a brave face today,' She thought with sadness. 'but that doesn't mean that my problems are over. I've stood my ground, true, but the truth is that I still have a very vague idea of what I can do to actually save my ass. I need to develop my plan. As I've devised until now, it falls short. I need something more. And if I don't do it myself, nobody else will. Jon isn't here to help me or save me. So _focus_, Marian. I need to think of a way out of this mess… I can do it. I've done it a million times before. I can do it again.'

Even though she needed to focus, she couldn't help but thinking of him, of Jon, worrying about him and his trip to the cold Wall. Would the journey from King's Landing to The Wall be a safe one? But then, she suddenly realized that the only two men she had hopelessly adored had vanished from her life and she couldn't do a single thing to spare their lives. She felt stupid and useless.

"Why does this keep happening to me?" She whispered very lowly to herself with bitterness. "Why have I lost the men whom I loved the most, _twice_?"

As she sighed because fate had chosen to be specifically mean to her, a lean shadow was cast right beside her.

"I know what it means to lose who you love." Lord Baelish whispered kindly as he stood next to her in the gazebo. "I fell in love, but I could not marry her."

He was obviously referring to Lady Stark, but he was unwilling to share the extra information with Marian – and she never asked any further.

"I see a pattern here. Do people in Westeros never marry the one they love the most?" She asked half sarcastically as she stared back at him.

"Westeros isn't built on love, my dear princess." He said with melancholy. "You should know that by now."

"Of course it isn't. I can see that." She replied dryly. "King's Landing would be quite different if it had been."

"I don't regret the city being as it is, though." He replied with a light smirk on his face.

"You don't need to say so." She whispered back knowing that he loved his life as it was. It might not be perfect, but he enjoyed it. It fitted him, even. It was clearly his comfort zone: being Master of Coin and head manager of the best brothel in town… and _other stuff_, she suspected.

"Now, you don't need to be cold to me, my dear princess." He insisted, trying to be extra nice to her. He assumed that the whole purity test thing had hurt her feminine pride. "You're just hurt right now. The anger will wear off, don't worry."

"_Not_ particularly worried about that, Lord Baelish." She replied hissing his name with great care. By the way she had answered, he was surprised to see that no such thing as a 'feminine pride' had been hurt in her. It was something totally different.

When she fell silent and stared at the sea again, smiling only briefly, he chuckled and shook his head. He smiled freely and went on speaking thus:

"My dear princess, you're _unbelievable_, if you allow me to speak freely." He commented genuinely amused. No other lady had ever spoken to him like that.

"Drop the pet name. It's beginning to annoy me, Lord Baelish." She replied seriously, but not meaning any harm. Not yet, at least.

"You learn quickly. Good." He whispered, smirking with something more that approval and admiration.

He had been and was being a fool, and he knew it. How careless he had been! His eyes roamed all over her striking attributes and felt a long-forgotten heat blooming deep within his body. Not only was she a prize-winning beauty, but also she had a sharp mind, with brighter and darker hues than any other young lady had.

"Quickly enough to survive around here, I guess." She whispered roughly. "_Stupid power game_…"

She wasn't being too open with her bitterness then since she had already shared such opinions with him only the previous night, but he could read well between the lines. She had accepted the rules. In spite of that, he was busy taking in how gorgeous she was. Being angry didn't devalue her beauty at all. He also noticed that King's Landing fashion style really suited her slim body. She was the most tempting distraction he had faced in _years_.

"It's the exact opposite of stupid, in fact. And you're cunning enough to see it, _my d_-" He whispered back at her with too much gentleness, as if he was really enjoying talking with her, as if he was being brutally honest with his current feelings, which immediately made her turn her face to him, raising an eyebrow.

She didn't expect such a _genuinely_ warm, charming voice coming from him. Something was the matter. He had even stopped himself from calling her that pet name he had invented for her, which she had just told him she hated: '_my dear princess'_. He softly bit his lower lip once, but as soon as he realized she had seen it, he regretted being so foolish and open to her. That wasn't like him at all.

"Lord Baelish," She addressed him quite formally and seriously, detaching herself both physically and psychologically from him. "I wish you'd just chill out and live…" She made a crucial pause, as if she was already regretting being honest with him. "I'm not old enough to lecture you on how to live your life. I know that. I might be young, but I know that what you do, whatever it is, – but especially _how_ you do it – has a great cost on you, as a person. I don't like that – _for me_, that is. You _seem_ to enjoy this. I _don't_, but that doesn't mean that I'm not willing to play the game if it is necessary."

"Nice and eloquent." He said trying to sound cooler than before. "I've never heard anyone in King's Landing speak so straightforwardly to me. You're one of a kind, I see."

"Good. Now stay out of my way… and I'll stay out of yours." She replied gently, moving away from him a bit further, as if she was leaving already, but still staring at him to check whether he had got the message.

The air grew suddenly colder even though the sun was shining just like a moment before. The breeze combed her long, dark hair. The joyful cry of a young swallow died in the distance, as if it was dragging the warmth of the summer with him, carrying it far, far away.

"What?" He asked with ingenuity, probably because he never expected her to say such things.

"I don't like your partnership deal." She just said openly. "That's what it means. Let me be brutally clear about this: I know you're _not_ precisely a simple pawn around here, but I'm not willing to play along. I don't trust… your… _music_, let's say. For as long I can avoid it, I'm not in the mood to go either _for_ or _against_ you, regardless of what you want. I'll just stay out of your way for as long as you keep out of mine."

He smiled devilishly because he immediately thought that she had no idea what he actually wanted.

"Wow, how bold!" He replied amused. "I don't think I've ever _threatened_ you, but _supposing_ that I'm just like you say, what if I _don't_ keep out of your way?"

"Then… we'll see." She whispered back at him quite neutrally and then she was gone.

It wasn't long until he lost sight of her lovely sinuous back behind some tall and think rose bushes. Lord Baelish mentally chid himself for having been momentarily careless enough to let it go. He would make sure he'd never make such a mistake with her ever again… _even though it would prove to be a difficult task_.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"What's wrong, Dave?" A sailor asked a comrade at the docks in King's Landing. "You're coughing like the end's nigh, mate."

"Don mind me, mate." Dave replied with a growling voice and unable to pronounce the words clearly. He seemed drunk all of a sudden, even though he hadn't touched a drop. "I neva been dis sic. Maybe I got de flu o' samding… Eva sins we came bac fom Qardz, I…"

His coughing got worse and worse, and suddenly he lost strength in his legs. He fell on the floor and hit his head.

"Hey, you all right?" His friend asked him worried.

"I fine… fine. I sp-pouse. Yeah."

"I don't think this is the flu, mate." He insisted with a persuasive, uneasy sense of dread. "You're talking weird also. I should find you a good doctor, mate."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"You're free."

Robb's words echoed in the humid, both muddy and mossy, empty jail. Empty but for Jon's lonely presence, of course.

Jon didn't say a word to his brother. His heart had been ruthlessly emptied too after his unjust imprisonment the previous day. He remained silent and stern as he rose from the cold ground and stood in front of the cell's open door. The heavy, cold smell of confinement and isolation reeked very much like the impossibility of forgiveness, should it have a smell. Even though Robb was looking forward to setting Jon free, he didn't know what to say to make him forgive him. He expected Jon to be angry or cold to him, which was fine, because he knew he totally deserved it.

Robb remembered the few times they had ever argued. They had hardly ever argued in their entire lives. And he was sure that forgiveness wouldn't be as sweet as it had sometimes been when he had dome mischief when he was just a little kid. They weren't two kids fighting over who got the last sweet lemon cake anymore.

"I know I did wrong, Jon. I have no excuse for what I did." Robb said full of regret. His voice was the warm wave that Jon had once cherished.

"I guess you've found out I was telling the truth." Jon whispered sadly but dryly.

A lonesome sequence of water drops could be heard slowly cascading in the background. The sewage system wasn't soundproof.

"You were indeed. I'm sorry." Robb repeated his apology.

"You would've been sorry either way, regardless of the result of the test on Marian." Jon added extremely calmly, which left Robb stunned. He had expected Jon to charge against him from the very beginning, to yell at him, to blame him for his stupid jealousy.

"What…?" Robb could only whisper feebly.

"If she wasn't proven to be pure, you'd be sorry for me because then the king would be forced to behead me for treason." Jon explained calmly. It made Robb think that he didn't really care to listen to him or his apology. "You'd be sorry anyway."

"OK, I get it." Robb concluded also calmly. "You're angry at me. I deserve it. You may yell at me if you feel like it."

At that Jon, stared briefly at him, but he still felt unmoved by his brother's currently subdued attitude.

"I've always been out of your way, Robb. It's not as if I could actually have what you were meant to have." Jon whispered at him sadly and hurt, looking away at the light coming from the open door of the main entrance of the jail. He secretly wished he was out there, riding hard to The Wall, feeling the wind on his face and leaving behind that crap of life. He was fed up with everybody's coldness and hatred towards him, but he eventually just said whispering: "I'm leaving."

"Now, you don't need to be bitter." Robb replied at his brother, also whispering.

"I'm bitter because I can't be anything else! So don't you dare patronize me!" Jon suddenly yelled at Robb, startling him.

"Jon, I… I j-just…" Robb managed to say, half stammering.

"I assume that she doesn't even know that I'm still here, right?" Jon asked with anger.

When Robb fell silent and forgot to deliver an answer, a cat outside the prison knocked down an empty bucket, which could be heard rolling on the ground, and an owl singing which suddenly also fell silent; and Jon understood that he was right about what he had suspected, and then he mildly shook his head.

"Jon, I'm sorry. Listen, I…" Robb began speaking, just too late to mend it.

"No. _You_, listen to _me_, for once in your life." Jon regained his calm voice and temper, even though he was visibly angry like never before. His fiery eyes told as much, displaying the ruthlessness and fierceness of a killer wolf. "I'm tired of being told I _can't_ do, have or be _anything_ because of what I am. It's over. I'm a _bitter_ bastard, and I'm _just fine_ being like that right now… So don't you dare tell me not to be bitter over what you've just done to me!"

The unexpected roughness of his voice and words left Robb speechless. He felt tense and unbearably stupid. And silence reigned between them. Only the incessant water drops from the sewage system, endlessly echoing from wall to wall, kept their ears busy in such tense moments.

"You don't need to feel downcast, man." Jon added calmly but quite sarcastically not long after that. He even dared to briefly smile, although it was just a fake display of affection. "I've just put you in your place. At the end of the day, you _love_ your place in this world, right?" As he said that, he was walking backwards towards the exit, facing his brother with an _I-don't-fucking-care-anymore_ attitude. "Your high-and-mighty, _fully_ noble spot…with _all_ the benefits it entails."

"Jon… Please, stop." Robb couldn't take it anymore, but he didn't lose his temper. He was too ashamed for that. "I know your life is hard enough as it is… I really don't know what to say." He eventually said hoping it would be enough to satiate his anger and get his dear brother back.

"Then don't say anything at all, and let me be." Jon whispered back to him as the morning sun outlined his frame from behind, standing in front of the open door. The golden rays highlighted his well-built body and casted a large, mighty shadow on the floor before him. Robb would rather die than see his dear brother leave to The Wall not having accepted his apology; however, Jon was already tired of hearing him talk.

"Again, _I'm sorry, brother_." Robb whispered his apology once more.

"We have a different surname." Jon replied coldly, over the annoyingly persistent sound of those sewage water drops. "I don't know why you're calling me… _that_."

As soon as he had uttered those cold words, Jon disappeared from Robb's sight for good. A couple of minutes later, Jon had already got hold of a horse and was riding to The Wall with his few personal belongings. In the meantime, Robb stood frozen in front of the cell's open door, frozen due to Jon's _pure ice_ in his voice, in his poisonous truth. But, in those eyes which had once been warm and friendly, Robb could only see the deadly glare of an angry wolf treading on extremely cold snow.

It broke his heart, so much so that the pain in his chest made him kneel down on the floor. That was the price he had to pay for breaking such a golden, sacred bond, forged like the strongest of metals day after day ever since childhood.

And the drumming water drops kept on thundering his eardrums, its invisible, guilty madness escalating in those empty prison cells.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"_AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!_"

That acute feminine yelling threatened to rip off everybody's ears with its sudden loud volume and its unbearable fearful tone. It came from a hall which lead to the gardens.

"What's the matter?!" Lord Stark was the first to attend the poor servant girl who had screamed in such an awful manner. He could only grab her by her fragile shoulders as she shivered all over.

"T-there…" She was able to mutter as she pointed with her forefinger to the savaged, bloody, and lifeless body of a woman, not far from them.

"Dear Old Gods! No…" Lord Stark whispered with contained revulsion at the horrid sight before him.

The Septa's corpse lay devoid of both life and decorum on the floor. Despite the fact that the Septa's murder had been obviously perpetrated in the most vicious of ways, only one little detail kept Lord Stark's old eyes obsessively busy: the old lady had an extra arm protruding vertically from her open stomach, standing gloriously upwards with its rigid hand giving Lord Stark the middle finger, as if the murderer had thought it funny to leave the murder scene like that.

Quite an odd sense of humor, the murderer had got.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary**: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC

**Disclaimer**: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)

*** I apologize for being such a lousy writer these days. I'm an evil procrastinator. ****_Evil_**** because I won't fill you in with stupid excuses to justify my absence… and because of today's cliff-hanger at the end of the chapter. ****Enjoy the pain! ;)**

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Previously…**

"What's the matter?!" Lord Stark was the first to attend the poor servant girl who had screamed in such an awful manner. He could only grab her by her fragile shoulders as she shivered all over.

"T-there…" She was able to mutter as she pointed with her forefinger to the savaged, bloody, and lifeless body of a woman, not far from them.

"Dear Old Gods! No…" Lord Stark whispered with contained revulsion at the horrid sight before him.

The Septa's corpse lay devoid of both life and decorum on the floor. Despite the fact that the Septa's murder had been obviously perpetrated in the most vicious of ways, only one little detail kept Lord Stark's old eyes obsessively busy: the old lady had an extra arm protruding vertically from her open stomach, standing gloriously upwards with its rigid hand giving Lord Stark the middle finger, as if the murderer had thought it funny to leave the murder scene like that.

Quite an odd sense of humor, the murderer had got.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 16: Suspicions**

"What?! The Septa's just been murdered?!" The king roared at his dear old friend Ned Stark when he had come to his chambers to deliver the awful news.

His voice thundered from wall to wall, echoing through the corridors and getting lost and eventually dying inside of every single servants' ears. It was half furious, half sarcastic. It was probably due to the surprise effect on him. The Septa had always displayed a halo of holiness and untouchability so much so that her assassination did not seem to make sense. But the king and Lord Stark had to face the facts as they were. They were gathered with a few of his best men in King Robert's chambers that fatal morning, not long after Marian's purity test and the stormy argument that had followed.

"The old bat?! Seriously?!" The king insisted with that seemingly funny tone of voice.

The king didn't seem to be able to believe it, and Lord Stark sensed it and attributed his mildly inappropriate tone of voice to that fact. In the meantime, the warm sun was showering its delightful golden rays over them.

"How?" The king asked out of curiosity.

"Quite ruthlessly, your highness." Lord Stark replied. "The murderer seems to have no mercy, or no soul even."

"The old bat, _murdered_!" The king chuckled as he poured himself a cup of wine.

"Yes, your highness." Lord Stark replied politely. "I do insist that you speak of the dead with more respect. You don't want anyone suspecting you had anything to do with it… Because you _didn't_, right?"

"Of course I didn't!" The king exclaimed with too much vehemence, which did not put Lord Stark's heart at ease. His words stank too much of alcohol and overacting, as if he was merely a bad actor trying to convince himself rather than the audience. "What? Oh, now you're going to tell me that you actually suspect me, Ned, _huh_? Really?" He asked his friend, bothered and tired. "Is that what you really think of me now? That I dispose of those who annoy me?"

"No, of course not, your highness." Lord Stark tried to soothe him, but he actually wanted to know whether he was involved in the matter. The king was more than willing to have executed anyone who might have displeased him. It had happened before and he was not usually cunning about it – but he was the king and, therefore, no one would say a word about it. No one would complain. But the worst of it all was this: the fact that he knew it, that he would _always_ get away with any type of, let's say, misbehaving.

"Good." The king went on with scrutinizing eyes and a firm, thin line in his dry smile. "I wouldn't like to find out that my _best_ friend is actually suspecting me of murdering an old lady." The king added with contained uneasiness.

His eyes were fierce. Somehow, he suddenly lost interest in the wine in front of him, on the magnificent table before him, although he kept absently eyeing at the bottle and the cup every once in a while during the conversation with his dear old friend. He seemed nervous without a cup of wine touching his lips. The soft morning breeze could not appease him, and the cleansing morning light could not offer him a clear view of the current state of affairs. For a second he thought the wine he had drunk all those last years had poisoned his brain in the long run, as if he was in a perpetual hangover.

"You said she had an extra arm, right?" The king went on. "Did it grow on her stomach as she lay dead _or what_?" He asked rather amused then.

"We still don't know whose arm it is," Lord Stark replied seriously, not amused at all. "but it looks a lot younger and more delicate than the Septa's. It must be from a young woman."

"Has anyone mysteriously disappeared?" The king asked. "Or has anyone been accidentally missing an arm?"

"Your guards are still checking." Lord Stark replied with dread.

"Who hated the old bat anyways?"

"Your highness, please." Lord Stark insisted, almost sure that the king would ignore his gentle plea again and again.

"The novices are said to have spoken meanly of her teaching methods." Lord Stark answered with doubt. "That's just a rumour, of course. But I fear that other suspects might appear soon."

"So you are in the mood to play detective, I see." The king replied rather amused still.

"I'm not playing. I'm trying to find out who the murderer is." Lord Stark made a brief pause and sighed once before going on with renewed patience, which he was obviously wasting on his royal friend. "We'd better leave that to your guard of honour, your highness. I suspect that the murderer might also be after the princess. I've taken the liberty to give some specific instructions to guarantee everybody's safety, if you don't mind, your highness. You should start planning what to do next in order to keep her safe and sound. The Septa's death might only be the beginning, I'm afraid. I think it's a warning."

The king rolled his eyes a bit and sighed in disbelief.

"You're worrying far too much, Ned." The king replied not feeling particularly impressed by his friend's determination, carefulness and tact. "I'm sure it was just a deed of vengeance on the old lady. Nothing more."

And having said that, the king got hold of the cup of wine in front of him once more and took a sip. He seemed to have forgotten about his recent fear that the wine was poisoning his mind.

"Why are you _so sure_ about it?" Lord Stark asked, wondering whether the king's lack of empathy and curiosity then might have something to do with the fact that he had been left alone right after the argument with Marian.

The king had spent most of the morning alone in his chambers, allegedly planning stuff for the welfare of the kingdom and drinking wine, as usual. But Marian had complained to him about the purity test and his lack of interest in her. Had the king commanded one of his guards to kill the Septa just so Marian would feel more comfortable now that one of the two people who had started that ugly rumour on her virtue was already dead? Or did he just do it because he simply hated the old woman? She was a renowned, fat, old scandalmonger. The king might've had something against her. He was constantly insulting her. That was why Lord Stark started to distrust his dear old friend more than ever.

"Have you got _any proof_ of what you are suggesting, your highness? That it's a vengeance killing." Lord Stark asked him with tact.

"No, but it's easy to find out. And if it's not the case, then maybe it's one of the ladies of the court. The old bat was a nosey, fat bitch. She knew all the pesky little secrets around here." He seemed to say so with mildly repressed anger.

"Why are you so sure that the murderer is a woman?" Lord Stark asked feeling particularly suspicious. What was the king so eager to get past it? "Or one of us, for that matter? It could be some stranger, or one of the thieves in the marketplace."

"I don't know why I'm thinking of a woman. But women are weird, strange creatures." The king went on as if he despised the entire opposite sex. "My father always told me the same: '_Don't trust a creature who spends almost an entire week bleeding and doesn't die. That can't be good_.'"

The guards who were present, but silent behind Lord Stark's back all the time, rolled their eyes and tried hard not to display any feeling on their faces. That comment was highly inappropriate.

"Let me remind you that you have a _daughter_. She's a _woman_, your highness." Lord Stark pointed out trying to make him reconsider his point of view on women.

"Oh, Ned! Why are you always so judgmental?!" The king roared at his friend with tiredness. "Relax!"

Out of the blue, a guard came nervously knocking at the door.

"Any news about the murder and the extra arm?" The king asked as if he was already bored about the whole thing.

"M'lord. The princess…" The guard replied almost out of breath. He had run all the way.

"What's happened?!" Lord Stark insisted fearing the worst.

"She's just found the person whose arm was on the Septa's corpse." He managed to say as if he was about to vomit his breakfast.

"Where's she now?!" Lord Stark insisted angrily. "Why isn't she here with you?! Did you leave here there on her own?!"

"No, Robb Stark, your son, is taking care of her, Lord Stark." He replied instantly. "She was quite distressed when she found the body. Luckily, he was around when that happened."

"Good." Lord Stark seemed to regain his usual self-control. "But, you've said 'body'… A _dead_ body?"

"Exactly." Lord Baelish suddenly and daringly interrupted their conversation as he came in. The shadows of his clothing were spreading like the fog all over the ground as he paced forward. "Another murder has taken place, Lord Stark. If you and your son are meant to ensure the princess' safety, you'd better get on the job – and quickly." There was something fishy in his voice and his smile, as if he was glad that those murders had displeased Lord Stark that much, as it could be seen on his pale face.

"Who's the victim?" Lord Stark inquired.

"Lady Bird, m'lord." The guard went on. "She's been found dead in the princess' chambers and missing an arm. She's wearing the same clothes as the extra arm… and she's been brutally murdered, m'lord. Very much like the Septa. That was why the princess was so distressed."

"Has the murdered left any clues?" Lord Stark asked.

"None that I realised of." The guard replied immediately.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, m'lord."

"You should see the crime scene yourself, Lord Stark." Lord Baelish added then.

"Very well then. Show us the corpse, please." Lord Stark commanded seriously. "Later, I want to have a word with everyone who might be connected with the victims and who have seen the corpses. I have some crucial questions to ask." He told everyone present before him.

Lord Stark still suspected his dear old friend because his behavior had been too inappropriate, but Lord Baelish's devious smile was somehow a clear sign of interest in the recent course of events. Lord Stark began to think that he might be satisfied with the current state of affairs bearing in mind that the Septa had always been campaigning against brothels and whores, Lord Baelish main source of income. But what of Lady Bird? Did she have any connection with Lord Baelish? Or with King Robert? Or both? Could that connection be possible? Where these murders related? Probably. The missing arm confirmed it. However, Lord Stark was fondly indulging his suspicions in every possible direction, since the facts up until then might prove to be just the tip of an iceberg.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"After all we've been through," Marian said still feeling weird after discovering the corpse of Lady Bird in her own chambers. She was extremely pale and her eyes showed how hard she was trying to veil her nervousness. "the king will think it was _me_ who did it."

Anxiety and worry fell short to describe her current state. Robb was listening to her intently as he quietly led her into his chambers, gently holding her right hand with great care. Since her own chambers contained a second murdered corpse, he could not allow Marian to stay there. It had become a crime scene. He needed to guide her elsewhere, a place where she could feel at peace. The look of worry on his face went unnoticed by Marian even though his searching eyes kept checking whether she was fine every now and then. But she wasn't, and he was unsure whether he could do anything about it. What she had just discovered was a frightful scene to behold. It would be engraved in her mind until the last of her days.

"We had an argument last night, the ladies and I." She went on, half absently, fearing the worst was still to come. They were walking down the corridor quite slowly, getting near to his chambers. Her voice was low, a bit rusty, and a bit too hasty, which denoted the pressure she was feeling under and the fact that she was telling the truth, too. And she went on thus: "She had been mean to me and threatened me. I hated her because she hated me. All the ladies put my virtue in doubt and they saw how flabbergasted and angry I was, which satisfied them a great deal. They're going to tell on me, I'm sure, to avenge her friend even though they have no proof and I would _never_ kill anyone!"

As soon as Robb had closed the door of his chambers behind him, she let go of his hand because she suddenly realized where she actually was. She had snapped out of the sort of trance she had been in, thinking about the mess she thought she was in. A light blush appeared on her cheeks: she was in her future husband's private chambers. He had just made a little mistake: he had led her to a place in which _he _felt safe and at peace, not where _she _did.

"Robb…" She whispered, not daring to speak any further. She just wanted to be anywhere else but his future husband's chambers.

He blushed too, but he didn't say a word. He just stared intensely at her as if he would eat her whole in a split second, even though it was obviously not the time and place for it. Two people had just been murdered and the perpetrator was still on the loose.

She had feared something like that would eventually happen, especially bearing in mind that Robb had already made it clear that he liked her very much. In spite of that, she was convinced that the recent argument right after the purity test might have postponed it a bit longer.

But Robb hesitated no more, came to her, leaned on her and kissed her lips softly, only once. His lips felt warm and gentle, but she just blushed out of shame, not because of love or lust. That blissfully lovely, warm morning was sending a nice, warm breeze into the room they were in at that moment. Robb hadn't triggered any primal instinct in her with that kiss, in that room. Had it been Jon, the result would've been radically different. But Robb hadn't awakened her passion or her unyielding love with that chaste kiss – _oh_, but she had awakened his. He firmly got hold of her waist with both hands. She didn't feel it right. Somehow she felt as heavy as an anchor. She admitted she was made of flesh and bone, just like him – which meant she had needs to fulfil, _physical_ needs, of course – but she couldn't bear the thought of kissing him back or hopelessly loving him, because…

_… __he was a good friend._

As soon as that last thought dawned on her, she knew she would never feel true passion for him – but he _did_. Oh, yes, he did. His lips on her became more demanding. He still hoped he could win her approval in spite of the purity test, her anger, his current impertinence as he dared to kiss her without her consent, and of course in spite of Jon's perfect image in her mind.

But she just turned her head to one side, breaking the kiss. She didn't dare to look at him out of shame, but she realized she had to say something.

"Robb," She whispered seriously. "bad timing."

She briefly scratched the back of her head and spun around to take a couple of steps away from him. Then, she sighed once as she let her gaze rest outside the open balcony and the deep blue sea dancing and sighing beneath it.

Then, he coughed once and stammered a bit as he decided to speak.

"I-I know." His voice was a bit too meek then, but he couldn't help displaying how weak and in love he felt as he stared at her. "Princess Marian, you can hardly expect me to behave myself when I see you forlorn like that. I love you."

"Robb, please… Not now." She whispered back trying to hold back her exasperation.

"I'm in earnest. I want to protect you, to be fit for you, to… make you love me." He confessed.

"Are you kidding?!" She replied with anger. "We've just been arguing about that stupid purity test and your bloody rumour-spreading in front of our fathers. You know I'm mad at you. A great deal. In spite of that, you've got the indecency to chase me out of the throne room to talk 'sense' into me when it's precisely _you_ who's been nonsensical all the bloody time!"

True. Robb had rushed to her in a futile attempt at regaining her trust, only to have his ears flooded with her anger and pain; and his heart, with genuine regret.

"And the second I've set my foot under the threshold of my chambers," She went on. "I find the dead body of Lady Bird, and you bring me _here_! Of all the rooms and places in the palace, _this_ place! On top of that, you kiss me without my consent! What do you think I think of you?! Can't you realise that I don't see that you're 'fit' for me?! Let me tell you something: you need a _miracle_, young man."

All of a sudden, a shiny little object on a table near the open balcony caught her eye.

"What the…?!" She half exclaimed, unable to believe it.

She took some angry strides towards that table and, when she grabbed the object which was the source of her current distress with one of her hands, she turned around to face Robb with one of the most irate faces he had ever seen in his entire life.

"What's _this_ doing here?!" She asked in a fury which knew no boundaries as her hand was shaking in front of his pale face, her fingers clutching her beloved sea shell necklace with a quite well-known, heart-wrecking silver ring in it. "This is my necklace, which was meant to be on Jon's neck right now. What's this doing here?! What the hell have you done?!"

Robb could just swallow once and feared to give her an answer. Discovering the necklace might worsen the current state of affairs between them. He knew he couldn't tell her the whole truth. If she knew, she'd be pissed off at him like never before. But his current silence wasn't helping: Marian's frown got deeper and deeper, her eyes were cutting also deeper in him. Besides, he couldn't think of anything that might appease her anger, so he might as well tell her the truth directly.

"Marian, I…" He began shyly. "I admit I've done something foolish. I've been struck by such an intense fit of jealousy that I feared I would actually lose you to Jon, even though his destiny is to defend the Wall, but… I…"

"But you _what_?!" She insisted.

"The Septa lied to defend me." He confessed. "There was no servant girl who had spread that ugly rumour about you. She doesn't exist. It was _me_ who doubted in the first place. Only _me_. I started doubting ever since that night in Qarth when he came to you at night."

"What?" She asked whispering. "Wait a second. Has this anything to do with Jon and my necklace?"

"Yes. At first I thought I should leave you two alone to fix it that night, because both of you already knew you couldn't be together. But it was taking too damn long… And I feared that… that he… that you… Anyway, when I came to fetch him a few minutes later, I saw his shirt undone by the collar… and your necklace hanging around his neck, and the ring in it, badly hidden. I was _convinced_ he wasn't giving up on you – and I couldn't stand it." He sighed, setting free the pressure he was feeling in his chest. The truth could be such a heavy burden sometimes…

"But what's the necklace doing here, in your room? You _stole_ it from him?!"

"No. I vowed to myself that I'd expose him, that I'd make him confess, that I'd make him feel ashamed, so that he'd leave us _alone_ once and for all, because basically your honour depends on it. So this was what I did yesterday:" His voice became an octave lower and guilt-stricken, as if he was about to admit something awful: "when Jon was meant to leave King's Landing the afternoon we arrived here and you were talking to the king, I took him aside and put my cards on the table. I took the necklace from him in a desperate attempt to impress him. And when he told me the truth, that you were pure, untouched, I just couldn't believe it. I was sure that he still wanted you, that he'd have you… So I…"

"What did you do to him?" She feared to ask.

"I commanded that he should be imprisoned."

"WHAT?!" She asked enraged.

"I asked the Septa to make preparations to carry out the purity test on you while he was made to wait in jail during the night. But when I've realized he'd been honourable to you, that you're pure, I've just set him free right after our argument in the throne room, before I came rushing to you a few minutes ago to beg your forgiveness, but it was too late. He hates me for what I did."

"How could you do such a thing?! To your own brother?! _Are you mad?!_" She yelled feeling torn. "And you didn't give the necklace back to him?!"

"I've acted foolishly." He admitted with too much guilt. "I know. I know…"

"No, you obviously don't! Where's he now?"

"He's left town already. The minute I set him free he was more that eager to lose sight of me and King's Landing."

"So he's left to join the Night's Watch like that, _hating_ you. And you've _let_ him, haven't you?" She was obviously hopeless then.

"You _assume_ it's been easy for me, but why?" He took it badly. "Why do you hold such a bad opinion of me? I just made a mistake and I've tried making amends with you, but…"

"Of course I have a _bad_ opinion of you! You _knew_ we were engaged by then when we were in Qarth and, even though I didn't love you back, I had a high opinion of you, and in spite of that you decided to be _mean_ to Jon, as if you could afford to hurt him without having any proof, just because you think that somehow he deserved it, or because I'm like property – _your_ _property_, right?"

"No, of course I don't consider you as my property, Marian!"

"You talk about _my_ honour and stuff, but between the lines you mean that I am only yours as if I had no say in the matter." She concluded in anger.

"Marian, I'm awfully sorry. Look, I didn't want to be mean to anyone." He added, trying to soothe her. He knew he had no way to defend his past attitude and actions, so he decided to be a better person and start anew, if she'd let him. His voice was hurt and begging for forgiveness as he went on: "I didn't want to hurt either you or Jon. I know I've acted like a fool. My point of view might have been rubbish and patronizing – I'm not gonna deny it –, but my intentions were good. I wanted and I still want to protect you. I hope that you see that and that you can forgive me someday, please."

"Asking for forgiveness after what you've done is, let's say, normal. If you didn't, I would panic. But don't be delusional about it. It's gonna cost you a lot more than a few kind words and a childish apology to make me believe in you."

"Then, what should I do to make you forgive me? I'm willing to do _anything_." Robb added feeling a dim light of hope appearing right in front of his eyes. One day, he hoped he would have begged her so much for so long that she'd let him kiss her again – and then he'd die the happiest men that ever lived. Of course he'd try _anything_ to make her forgive him!

"Anything?" She asked him with curiosity dawning on her, raising an eyebrow.

She had had an idea.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Reading the finest works of historic literature in a comfy, cushioned seat, Lord Tywinn Lannister was enjoying some free time away from scheming plans and ruling his large estate. His worries about money and debt-paying were far, far away. Once in a while, he would raise his eyes from the page and absently stare out the window of his luxurious study room. Life treated him well, he had made sure it would. But he seemed to wish he were somewhere else, pondering on foreign lands, exotic women, and second chances. Not a soul knew whether he had had a lover long before he had got married to a worthier match according to his parents, but his long face told a different tale. Something was amiss. Time and experience had bent his young, naïve attitude towards life, and thus love as an eternal, timeless entity was forfeit. That was why he firmly believed women were worthless most of the time, with _one exception_, of course: whenever intercourse could take place. No women would ever interest him if they weren't young and disposed to please him in the most embarrassing of ways.

"Phoebe…" He whispered like in a dream.

Summer would pass by in a few months' time, and he knew it. But he felt safe in his castle, in his study room full of books he had read over and over again, especially after his wife had died during Tyrion's birth. He was an avid reader, with a morbid passion for epic works and history books.

The gentle breeze was getting cooler and cooler every day, but nothing could match his own icy heart in a duel as far as coolness was concerned. And he knew just how to show it to King Robert and the entire Westeros. As a devious smirk was drawn on his lips, he was absolutely sure about his next move to make the obnoxiously fat king pay for the public shaming and beheading of his offspring.

"You might've used my offspring for your own benefit, King Robert." He whispered in a Machiavellian attitude. "But I'll use _yours_ to _mine_."

An evil giggling rose from his throat, but as soon as he had released it he caressed the open book he had been reading with all the care in the world, and only then he went on:

"And… _he…_ might be more than willing to help me out, bearing in mind what you've done to him, too." He hissed with joy while he smirked at the history book resting on his lap. But then there was a soft knock on the door. When it opened, he didn't greet the newcomer in the usual fashion, nor did he hesitate to go on thus: "What an extraordinary coincidence, isn't it, _Snow_?"

And indeed, Jon Snow was standing by the door with a stern look on his face.

"I beg your pardon, but what coincidence are you talking, my lord?" Jon replied with a husky voice. "_You sent for me_. What do you want from me, my lord?"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Robb knew what he had to do to make amends with Marian, so that he would at least have a chance to win her love.

'I need to find him!' He thought with great determination while getting his horse ready. He was in a hurry to leave King's Landing as soon as possible. 'I've told her that her idea might backfire, but she doesn't care about the risks, as usual.' That put a gentle smile on his face. He liked her when she acted rough and daring like that. 'There's an unknown enemy who wants her dead ever since we left Qarth, and there's a mystery murderer on the loose in King's Landing – probably it's the same culprit. Who knows. I hope father knows how to handle this while I'm away. I need to find Jon and make amends with him, just as she has suggested me to do. How can she forgive me for what I've done, I still don't know. Will this suffice? It's her idea, but… I guess she's a much better, upright and honest person than I'll ever be in my entire life – and that's why I love her so _fucking_ much.'

When his bags were duly packed and his horse was ready, he stared at the open, huge double wooden doors of the stables in that fine, stupidly sunny morning, shining like a brand new promise that everything will turn out to be all right in the end.

'If she says she'll be fine on her own, I believe her.' He thought with renewed hopes in his heart as he climbed on his horse and set off on his journey. 'She's capable of it, I'm sure. I shouldn't be so possessive and insecure when it comes to her. And now, I need to speak with Jon and beg his forgiveness, like she has suggested. He deserves a much better brother.'

His horse's joyful galloping soon drowned in the crowded streets of King's Landing.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Lady Amiss," Lord Baelish politely answered her indirect plea to get some attention. "I'm flattered that you consider me as a worthy companion with whom you want to spend your free time, but I highly doubt that you are doing this to _please me_, as you say."

She just let out a chuckle, graciously and delicately like a small bird jumping around the patio. That still quite hot and humid afternoon, they were seated in Lord Baelish's study room, in which he kept his accounting books and letters. As soon as she had knocked on his door, he had come to open it and smiled politely at her, although her presence around him had always been bothersome. She was an ambitious little bitch, and they both knew it. Her gaze rested on his thin lips for a bit too long, and she smiled carelessly, displaying too much confidence with her hooded eyes. Her current attire also suited her current purpose: getting his 'attention' by being daring and falsely coy, and by exploiting her physical feminine attributes. On top of that, she was almost exposing her breasts completely. And Lord Baelish frowned.

"Ow, you look worried, my lord. Is it because of Lord Stark that you frown now?" She said as if she knew what was really going on.

In fact, Lord Stark had summoned almost everyone who lived within the castle walls for a thorough interrogation. He was taking the whole matter far too seriously – or so Lord Baelish thought. A bit earlier, he had been questioned himself. Lord Stark's doubts were well-founded and precise. His questions were demanding and quite intrusive, but Lord Baelish knew that if he refused to answer them or delivered a partial answer Lord Stark would know he was hiding something, that he was probably the culprit, or that he had something to do with it. Did he want the Hand of the King meddling in his private affairs? Of course not. Lord Baelish had been stern and evasive, but polite and collaborative throughout the whole questioning. Therefore, he thought he was sure that he would leave him alone – at least for some time.

"So, you think I'm here to meddle in your thoughts and plans, right?" She asked then. "Now, you don't believe I suspect you're the mysterious murderer, do you?"

"No, you don't, of course." He replied out or mere courtesy. "But you're not here to spend your free time at leisure. You've come here with a purpose, haven't you?"

"Is that what you really think, Lord Baelish?" She replied whispering like the temptress she was trying to be. "That I _do_ have a purpose?"

"Your ego is far too strong, my lady." Lord Baelish was too smart for her. He had seen it all coming for a mile away: Lady Amiss was an amazingly bad seductress and a pathetic spy. "You act like this to please _yourself_." He concluded with a dry smile on his lips. "And to accomplish something, of course."

'I highly doubt that she's on command. She's ambitious, but she's not the top of the pyramid. She's not that smart. So, she might be a spy. But from whom?' He thought intrigued. 'I'm not keeping you around because I enjoy your company, Lady Amiss. I just want to know who is so desperately eager to know what I'm up to these days. It must be someone who's too blind to see that you're just a dirty slut, not a skilled individual in the art of spying and scheming. You're not match for me. And neither is your employer, whoever he or she is.'

"Oh, Lord Baelish!" She exclaimed pretending not to be put off by his previous remark. "You judge me with too much harshness, believe me. I'm actually rather interested in pleasing _you_ a great deal." She added feeling playful.

"Oh, really? Good to know."

"I would never dare to put my interests ahead of yours, my dear lord." She gently tucked a curl behind her right ear and stared at him with desire. Her lips gently rested one on top of the other, pouting a bit, although she was not mad at him. She was just being playful, faking that mild anger. "Tell me, why have you been a bachelor for so long? I can't fathom it. Don't you want to feel intimate with a lady, Lord Baelish? To have her loving the ground you tread on, teasing you as much as you like, and screaming your name as she cums for you?"

"I'm not interested in having a love affair." He replied formally.

"I know that. Don't get me wrong, my lord. I'm not talking about _love_. I'm talking about… _adoration _and_ lust_." She was trying hard to seduce him, and Lord Baelish was thinking that it might be a good idea to play along for a while, only to belittle her when she thought she'd won.

"If you know that, I hope that you _also_ know that I have my own means to obtain what I want." He went on with a devious smirk. "Why should you offer yourself to me? Should I ever wanted to have you, I would've already done it."

"True. But I thought that you might need an incentive." She added softly while sliding her forefinger seductively on one of his shoulders, down to his arm, to his hand…

"So, this is going to be a deal, huh?" He said staring into her eyes. "You want something, right? What have you got for me, Lady Amiss? Apart from your body, that is."

"The best there is. What you've always wanted. What you need the most now, more than ever." Her smile denoted victory. "_Information."_

"I've got all the information I want when I want it, my lady."

"I highly doubt it, unless you know every single one of your associate's moves, that is."

"My associ-?" He was amazed for the first time in the conversation. No one knew about it. He had been sure of it. But she knew something, and maybe she wasn't the useless slut he thought she was. "I have no associates. Never have. Explain yourself, Lady Amiss." He pretended not to know.

"_Oh_, but you _do_ have an associate. Don't lie to me. I'll tell you everything there is to know, but, you see, Lord Baelish, I…" She lengthened her words and her sentences just to tantalize him a bit further. He was just about to fall into her trap. "I really, _really_ want you to treat me well. Do you know what I mean? I know that you value women in a certain way, and that for as long as they are useful to you you're gonna have them by your side and protect them."

"So you want my protection in exchange for your information." He concluded with a husky voice and hooded eyes.

"And don't forget my body, Lord Baelish. You may ravish me, if you like."

"I'm not interested in raping a lady myself, and in your case it wouldn't work."

"Why not, pray?" She asked amused.

"Because you're not precisely _unwilling_ to have sex with me. That's the definition of rape, my lady."

"True." She replied giggling a bit.

"Let me think about whether your offer is worthy of my attention, Lady Amiss. Is my alleged associate planning something that's _not_ beneficial to me behind my back?"

"Oh, yes, he is, Lord Baelish. He's been very _naughty_, you know." She confessed quite playfully.

He chuckled, unsuccessfully trying to veil the fact that he was pissed off. No one ever dared to play tricks on him, or betray him.

"Is that devious smirk playing on your lips an '_aye' _to my proposal, my lord?" She asked softly biting her lower lip.

"How do you know all this?" He asked with curiosity, while arching an eyebrow at her.

"_Ah-ah_, my lord. Not yet. Not until you agree to my proposal." She insisted.

"I bet you're his spy and that you're fed up with him, aren't you? What has he ever done to you, my lady? Has he crossed, or hurt, you in some way?"

"Oh, _maybe_, Lord Baelish. Just maybe." She replied playfully, faking her coyness.

"Don't play the double agent with me, Lady Amiss. That would mean bad business." He added sternly.

She giggled a bit and stared deeply into his eyes.

"I prefer women to be naughty in bed, not in politics and scheming." He commented seriously. "What do you have to say?" He asked smirking.

"Aye, my lord." She replied like a tamed horse. "My knowledge and my body shall be yours, as well as my loyalty, for as long as you protect me. No betrayal to you shall ever come from me. Do we have a deal then, Lord Baelish?"

"You bet, Lady Amiss. Now, let's get it on, shall we?" He said feeling naughty.

He towered over her to kiss and bite her porcelain-like neck.

"Oh, Lord Baelish!" She exclaimed as she let him do as he pleased with her.

"Does your husband know that you like playing these dangerous games, Lady Amiss?" He suddenly asked her between kisses and bites.

"Of course not! He's too busy fucking the whores in your brothel…" She replied giggling.

"Good, very good…" He said and then he went on snogging her.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Marian had been let to come back to her chambers once the corpse of Lady Bird had been disposed of, all the items considered as potential evidence had been taken away, and the servants had cleaned the room thoroughly. She had locked herself in her chambers in an attempt at keeping herself safe now that there was a murderer on the loose and that Robb had left King's Landing. Lord Stark had insisted on that a great deal, and he promised he'd send for her a bit later that same afternoon so that he could question her as far as the investigation was concerned.

"Princess Marian!" A servant knocked hopelessly on the door of her chambers as if she was obviously doing something wrong, as if time was of essence.

"Who's there?" She asked alarmed. She didn't recognize the voice emerging from the other side of the locked door.

"A servant girl, err… Look, Princess Marian, I know I shouldn't be here since I'm just a kitchen girl, but there's a man who requires your medical assistance. Shall I lead you to him?"

She hesitated. That could be a trap.

"I know it sounds odd, my princess. But he's of a lower social condition. He's a sailor form Qarth, but not a very wealthy one. He says he can't afford a healer here. And he seems to be in a really bad shape, my princess. He was hoping you'd be generous enough to see him since your reputation as a good-willed doctor precedes you. He insisted on calling you."

"Tell me what's wrong with him." Marian asked out of routine.

"I can hardly tell." The servant girl hesitated in earnest. "I've never seen anything like it. He seems to speak as if he were drunk, but he assures he isn't. And so does his friend. It's weird. He can't walk properly either. He says he feels partially paralyzed, but only sometimes and just for a brief period of time. I don't know. It's kinda weird."

Marian froze. She recognized the symptoms. Could it be, at long last? Had her most powerful fear finally come to life? That is, had that cursed fatal illness eventually leaped over that vast puddle of water and landed in Westeros? If so, everything could and _would_ change. The people, both commoners and nobles, would need her assistance. She would not be denied from then on. The king might feel displeased about the idea since he had forbidden her to practice medicine, but they would need her. Badly. Even the murderer might change his mind and spare her life.

'_His_?' She thought immediately, standing amazed as she stared wide-eyed at her still closed door, hesitating whether to let that unknown female servant in or not with her trembling right hand on the knob. 'His? Or her?'

The silence on the other side was pressing her to speak, to take a leap of faith into the void or deny her own principles, namely, helping other people in need of a doctor.

"I'm coming right away." She replied with determination. The vibration of her vocal chords felt empowering. The familiar warmth of excitement and challenge was gathering in her chest, and an old fire dawned in her eyes.

'Fear, begone.' She thought with pride and fire. 'I'm not going to flee from this the way I fled from Winterfell, although it might mean a lot more trouble than the one I'm already in. I'm smiling out of confidence and joy. I want this challenge. I like it, and I'm taking it as it is: my chance at making myself useful in this new place. From now on, I'm not just a pretty face or a womb which will deliver an heir for the Iron Throne. _I define my own worth_, and I'm going to show it to everyone in King's Landing, whether they like it or not.'

"Very well, Princess Marian." The servant girl replied feeling at ease as Marian opened the door and displayed a warm smile to her.

"Where is my patient?" She asked gently.

"He's lying in a corner in the stables. Let me show you." She replied with naivety as she began to show her the way.

'Anyway,' Marian thought with worry. 'I still need the cure with they stole from me in Qarth – or come back to Winterfell and gather new ingredients. Thank the Gods I still remember the formula. Either way, I need this patient to stay in quarantine while I travel. He cannot go anywhere until I've managed to come back with the cure.'

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In the meantime, a servant boy came knocking at Princess Marian's door to ask her to come to Lord Stark's chambers to be questioned about the murders. However, she was nowhere to be found, of course. At that time, she was examining the patient and was telling him what she was thinking of doing to save him.

But Lord Stark thought with worry that something might have happened to her – or that she had something to do with the murders of the Septa and Lady Bird. It became hard for him to shake that last awful thought off his mind. He was convinced that Marian was not an assassin – and he would bet getting his own head beheaded on her innocence.

"Make sure you search every corner of the palace." Lord Stark commanded with harshness and anguish to that same servant boy. "Tell the guards to help you out. The princess must be found immediately!"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

'What the hell is this?' Marian thought with genuine hesitation. She had already come back from the stables unseen. That man was severely ill from that cursed illness, and she had to hurry. That was why she was in Robb's chambers _stealing_, well, _trying to find_ some items of clothing which might help her to travel in disguise. 'Does Robb really think these trousers work while riding a horse?! Anyway…'

She finally found what she was looking for and store it away in her room. The sun was already setting by that time.

'Gods, the sunset in King's Landing is impressive!' She thought amazed while closing the double doors of her wardrobe and staring at the setting sun from a window in her chambers. 'I'll set off to Qarth first thing in the morning and tell no one. If either my father or Lord Stark knew, they'd never let me go.'

Out of the blue, a really well-built guard broke into her chambers and caught her off guard, not only because he had startled her, but also because he was handsome and had an enviable body complexion.

"What the…?!" She exclaimed distressed.

"Princess Marian!" He yelled. "Thank the Gods you are fine!" He elaborated as he came nearer her.

"Of course I'm fine. What's going on?" She asked automatically.

"Forgive my manners, please, princess." He apologized. "But Lord Stark had sent for you and you were nowhere to be found, so naturally he got worried something had happened to you. He will be pleased to know you are fine. Please come with me to his chambers, Princess Marian. He wanted to have a word with you about the murders."

Not hesitating for even a second, she followed him to Lord Stark's chambers, where they spent some minutes discussing her sudden vanishing and those unfortunate murders. She did not reveal the true nature of the reason why she was not in her chambers a few minutes ago, of course. And even though Lord Stark sensed she was hiding something, he did not push her any further.

"Please, Marian." Lord Stark pleaded. "Be _extremely_ careful. A murder on the loose is no trifling matter."

"I know, Lord Stark. I know." She admitted just to appease him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Right after a relaxing bath that same night, Marian was sitting on a comfy sofa facing the window of her bedroom. The calmness reigned supreme, even though she knew King's Landing was anything but a calm place. The events of the day still felt both gruesome and exciting for different reasons, but she needed to chill out before she'd collapse. She was quite tired. The next dawn she'd set off to Qarth, and now she needed to rest. She had felt like a rag doll in that hellish place, but with that fatal illness on the loose she found the determination she was looking for to fix her life.

She felt her skin soft after that bath. She suddenly wondered what Jon would be doing then, and she hopelessly sighed. For a second she also thought of Robb and whether he had been successful in finding and apologizing to his recently-departed brother. But soon those thoughts dissipated and the image of a new player in the love game appeared in her mind's eye: Lord Baelish.

Their last conversation in the garden had been one of a kind: she had tried to put some distance between them just because she considered it would be safer for her, but she feared that the effect of such conversation on him had been quite the opposite. His eyes had told her as much. The intensity. Something in the air around him. He wanted her – and she had somehow noticed the need in him. She feared it would mean she was in trouble. By being so bold and straightforward when she had told him that she wanted to refuse his partnership deal, she knew she might have spurred his interest in her. Somehow, doing precisely what he hadn't expected from her probably had made her an unpredictable element in his complex chess game. And somehow he loved such challenges. She had sensed it. Besides, he had been indecently staring at her all the bloody time. He was obviously waiting for the right time to haunt her again – and her guts were telling her the end of the waiting was nigh. Lord Baelish was the kind of man who doesn't wait for what he wants.

In spite of the dread, she tried to relax and empty her mind. She didn't bother to light any candle, she preferred to be in the darkness of her chamber, breathing in and out at leisure. She had opened the window panes of her bedroom and the white thin curtains were dancing aimlessly in the soft wind of the night. So there and then, with her eyes gently closed and breathing her stress in and out, she sat there and tried to empty her mind of her demons. She hadn't bothered to dress fully after bathing. She was comfortable wearing only her panties and a baby-blue bathrobe. Her naked legs were gently resting by her side, adopting the position of a mermaid resting on a rock, and her arms were hanging on either side of her body weightless, as if they didn't exist at all. She sighed once, trying to breathe out all the negativity and nervousness in her once more, but as she let it go and the air left her body through her mouth it seemed to hint at a light moan – and she automatically thought of Jon, as if her mind was hopelessly bound to the thought of him… and their last heated kisses in Qarth.

That broke her concentration and she snapped her eyes open as if she was annoyed by the thought of what she had lost forever, but she had to admit that he had carved himself a spot within her which could last forever – be it something good or bad.

The view of the city skyline was impressive. She hadn't paid much attention to it ever since she had arrived – and she immediately regretted it. The moon was shining big and bright up in the sky, golden and slightly orangey like a piece of vividly burning coal. It boosted her loneliness and uneasiness with its exquisite romantic influence. She could hear giggling sounds and moaning from several floors below, from couples guided by the moon's romanticism who were enjoying each other's company. A couple of cats were also gracefully teasing each other under the moonlight.

She felt sad, bathed by that impressive moon. What a euphemism! What would the moon care about her issues and insecurities? Why would it want to have such a powerful influence on her or on other people? The moon was just, well, the moon. A satellite. That and other ideas was what Marian was wondering about for a few more minutes to try and distract her own mind from the feeling the unbearable loss of Jon's company.

But all of a sudden, and like a deer shooting its head up searching for a potential source of danger, she swiftly cast her eyes right out of the window and into the night: over the well-illuminated roofs of King's Landing, a silhouette was aimlessly pacing, as if killing some spare time, from one roof to the next but not aiming for any specific destination. His dark, short hair and his slim, cat-like frame made Marian gasp immediately. For a second, she thought it was Robb coming back, but it was someone a bit older and slimmer. Painfully slowly, the man turned his face from staring at the moon to the open window of her room. She would recognize that nose and those cheeks anywhere: Lord Baelish, allegedly the new player in the game of love. If he cared for such a concept, that is.

She automatically thanked herself for not lighting any candles before – then he could have spot her, of course. But the window was open nonetheless. Would he take the chance to try to break in? Well, not _break in_ _per se _of course, since it was already open, so it didn't need breaking. But would he _dare_?!

Oh, yes, he would. He would never let her have the last word in any discussion with him, especially if she was so stubborn so as not to accept his highly calculated deals.

Definitely. No doubt about it. She started to panic in silence. Why the men around her were so bloody dangerous to her?

What if she closed the window right away? She thought about it immediately. No! Too rash! Then he'd see her and probably direct a nasty comment at her the next morning. Or something about spying on him, probably. Whatever. She rolled her eyes mentally at him for that potential, imaginary comment of his. No… First, she needed him to make himself scarce _and then_ close the window.

She bit her lower lip nervously because she knew he would probably spend the night out there, staring at whatever he wanted to stare at, namely, her open window if he chose to. But she didn't have any more time to waste on her own insecurities, because Lord Baelish was slowly pacing towards her, to her open window, making his way from one rooftop to another quite leisurely. Her heart skipped a beat. She thought that he might believe she was sleeping or something and that she had been careless enough to leave her bedroom window open, probably knowing beforehand that he was out and about managing the brothel and doing business, although anyone would be able to enter her room if they saw it was open, of course. How could she have been so careless? So stupid? Lord Baelish would not even for a second hold it offensive, inappropriate or shameful to enter a princess' chamber at night. Marian blushed at the thought, because suddenly her open window seemed an unspoken invitation to come in and mess with her – and she hadn't realized about it until then. Good Gods! She had only wanted some fresh air!

'Oh, dear… No!' She thought with uneasiness.

She panicked and swallowed hard. Her eyes started to burn and gently tremble with something that wasn't really fear. It was anger rather, slowly building in her chest. What would she do if he came in through the window? What the fuck! Not 'if', 'when' rather! He was getting closer and closer. Oh, dear… She didn't want him around. Fleeing was the only good idea she could come up with. She'd pretend she had left it open during the previous afternoon and everything would be fine.

Fine. Just fine. She'd pretend she had completely forgotten about the open window.

Yeah, right. Would she forget about a carelessly open window when there was a mysterious murderer who wanted her dead? It made no sense! She needed to come up with a better idea. Sort of nowish…Come on! Come on!

Nothing.

Great. Just _great_.

In spite of her guts telling her to run away, she decided to stay. She wanted to be cool about it; she would be brave. Why not? That was what she had always been and King's Landing would not change or diminish that. Not now that she had found something to fight for. She could do face that man. That's why her nostrils flared in anticipation of the clash. Lord Baelish's body was facing the window from afar. She stared at his approaching silhouette, dark like ebony but outlined in a rather hellish orange light by the silently cascading moonlight. He was glowing like a shooting star as he was moving his body forwards, gently swimming over the sea of shadows beneath his feet.

"Get a grip, Marian." She whispered harshly to herself, with more anger than it was necessary. "You can do this. He's not getting anything from you that you're not willing to give tonight. You can outsmart him. It doesn't matter what plans he's got."

Suddenly, she could no longer see him. The skyline was as empty as before – or full of everything else but him, that is. Her heart skipped another beat, but before she could think of the possibility that he was heading somewhere else, she wondered whether he was hiding, looking for a surprise effect to catch her unguarded. Was he really coming to her? Had he seen her sitting on the sofa then? Did he know she was fully awake and staring at him? Had he noticed her searching eyes, glowing in a strange anticipation, in the darkness of her bedroom?

The breeze was rushing through the streets and the branches of the nearby trees. The stillness gave no hint that he could be approaching, and yet she was suspicious. She frowned. She knew Lord Baelish wasn't a man who gave up so easily. She knew he hadn't dissolved into the night's chill, thin air. That was why she rose from the sofa and approached the open window as she tiptoed, very slowly. Next, she leaned on the windowsill as carefully and silently as she could manage. She stared in all directions and then…

Nothing. No one.

Marian raised an eyebrow at the emptiness. The air combed her hair gently. Two cats ran about and hissed. Chatter could be dimly heard from afar. Then, an unrestrained moan softly caressed the air. Someone was making love. But nothing more… Perhaps only one of her suspicions was true in the end: Lord Baelish was actually heading somewhere else.

Battling against a mild feeling of sudden disappointment (because she had envisioned facing him, chiding him for spying on her at night and probably slapping his face once at least for being so cheeky), she stared back at the moon and smiled at her own idiocy. She was acting foolishly, and she knew it. Why should she care about Lord Baelish and what he did or didn't do? He had an unknown-to-her emotional baggage, quick wit and evil-mastermind tendencies. But he could be nice once in a while, with some dark reason behind his politeness probably. At least he had never tried to hurt her, like Theon for example. Was his agreeability fake or real? She thought that it would be best to be safe than sorry.

More unrestrained moaning from down below…

Her stupid neighbours were fucking and moaning too much by then. As she thought so, she decided to close the window, but once she rose her arms and grabbed either of the glass panes to close the window, out of the blue two strangely familiar feet rushed to keep both of them open from above.

"What the…?!" She burst out. "No way…" She eventually whispered as she looked up.

"Yep. It's me."

Lord Baelish was hanging from the overhang, his two feet joyfully preventing her from closing the window – and successfully messing with her on purpose. He could enjoy seeing her lovely curls hanging freely and falling into her cleavage in the meantime.

"Lord Baelish, leave the poor window alone, please." She uttered the sentence as if it were a harsh command, not a polite request.

"Your orders don't impress me, my dear princess." He said smiling with pride and using that pet expression he loved so much.

She frowned and tried to veil her anger. Suddenly, her hands did no longer care to hold the window panes and they fell on either side of her body. Lord Baelish noticed her change of attitude: he frowned because he had envisioned her ranting and raging at him for invading her personal space at night. Then, he let go and landed on the windowsill, squatting right in front of her. He seemed pretty agile at his age, which amazed her. Only the Gods knew why he was so agile – probably to get out of messy situations which got physical? Maybe.

"I have put my foot in it again, haven't I?" He concluded whispering. "I seem to develop the habit of annoying you, somehow."

Before she could answer that she hadn't been bothered before by him, she realized that it would've been a really bad lie. She had been bothered by his deal and his attitude, for example. But Lord Baelish was too smart to play such childish games. Lies would not distract him or fool him. The soft breeze combed his hair as it gently came into her bedroom. Then it combed hers as she crossed her arms over her chest in defiance. He smiled at her warmly but with cheek, and although he was not trying to piss her off that time, she didn't buy it. Her previous threats were still in his mind and both of them knew it.

"I do hope I'm not in your way, like you pointed out earlier today." He added calmly. "I don't want to mess with you."

"From where I stand, you've come here with precisely that very objective." She replied annoyed.

"Nice bathrobe…" He whispered rather wolfishly. Then, a louder moan from the neighbours could be heard. "And nice neighbours you got here…" He said smirking.

"Out." She commanded, blushing a bit.

"I'm not in." He replied gently but happily. "Not yet, at least." He whispered eventually.

"You're squatting on my windowsill. That's the limit, you idiot." She complained, daring to insult him. He chuckled once, amused by such treatment.

"The limit. Exactly." He confirmed it with vehemence and grinning. "But not _in_, my dear princess."

She rolled her eyes at him as if she was losing her patience.

"What do you want?!" She asked angrily while she tipped her head slightly sideways. "No! You know what? I don't want to listen to your excuses. OUT! Don't make me spell it to you."

"Princess Marian, I'm sorry. I should've…" He tried to calm her down.

His gentle words didn't reach out to her and his mouth came to a halt. After a few seconds in complete silence, it was she who dared to speak.

"You should've NOTHING. This is an indecency!" She answered sternly, her eyes burning. "Now go _the fuck_ away."

"You know what? I enjoy you getting mad at me." He said enjoying the moment fully. "I've just realized I prefer it that way, my dear princess."

Again, that stupid pet expression at the end, driving her insane.

"Well, I don't." She said faking a cruel smile at him.

"That's right. I bet you'd rather enjoy my lips instead…" He said matter-of-factly but defiantly and triumphantly.

Suddenly she panicked. She honestly didn't know where that had come from. Had he been drinking?

"What the hell?! _Out_, I said!" She exclaimed enraged.

"… like I'm going to enjoy yours." He whispered confessing his lust for her. He was staring intensely at her, his eyes burning like that hellish moon in the dark sky.

"Lord Baelish, stop it this instant! Don't you dare laugh at me like that! And I said OUT!" She yelled. She was obviously losing it. "I'm deadly serious!"

"Me too." He said as he slid one foot into her bedroom and stretched his leg in front of her feet on the floor. "Why was your window open, my dear princess?" He asked tentatively, like a snake watching his prey hesitate. He really wanted to see whether she could come up with a plausible excuse.

"I was… I owe you no explanation!" She yelled at him. "And stop using _that_ stupid pet word. You know I hate it."

"You _knew_ I was out there managing the business. Because it's nighttime, it's _brothel_ time. That's when the majority of clients _come_." He chuckled at his accidental phonetic pun as he stretched his other leg and foot in the room towards her, ignoring her comment on his use of the pet words. When both his feet were on the floor, he went on with joy: "_Oops_! Looks like I'm in." He said feeling funny and witty, suddenly standing in front of her and not feeling guilty about it, of course. She was breathing hard by then.

"Lord Baelish, have you been drinking? OUT I said!"

"Great. Now commanding me to go out makes sense at least." He said matter-of-factly again. "And no, I haven't been drinking."

"I don't see your back as you're leaving." She said sarcastically, faking a polite grin on purpose.

"That's because I don't give a _shit_ about your command." He said calmly… so calmly that it would've calmed an erupting volcano, but not Marian, of course.

"How _dare_ you?!" She was so angry that she was almost at a loss for words at that stage. He didn't seem to back off and she began to worry. Would it work if she slapped his face then?

He took a couple of steps towards her. She gasped. Then, he just cupped her chin with his right hand and stared intensely into her eyes as he spoke thus:

"I love watching your lips go up and down in a futile attempt at making me disappear. Let me make it clear to you. That's who I am: I'll always be around – you may not see me, but I'm _always_ around. I _never_ disappear. Anything that anyone might say or do, I'll know. I'll always be there and use that information when I see fit. You insist on refusing being partners, on staying away from my path. Very well: let me at least tell you that you're being naïve about it. Any path in King's Landing leads eventually to me. You're proud and obstinate; and I like it, my dear princess. That might get you far among the normal people. You and your temper… Oh, but wait! Why do you seem sad and forlorn now?" As he was speaking, she had grown paler and paler. "That's not what I wanted from you tonight. Should we change that?" He added whispering with lust. Her eyes glowed with fear. "There's one thing that might not make you rant at me for some seconds."

Then, he swiftly got hold of both her nape and he leaned over her with an unbearable slowness. His face was painfully getting closer and closer to hers. He was smiling with ease. He seemed to be calm, extremely calm… which made her panic.

Next, his other hand squirmed over her body until it rested on the small of her back, ensnaring her tightly against his chest. His half-closed eyes matched hers. Something in her veins, besides the stampeding bloodstream, was reviving in her, because she hopelessly wanted Jon to be there, to be the man who was holding her so tightly against her will. The time was drawing near… It was drawing their lips nearer and nearer, too. She knew she had to think of something any second now. Otherwise, he'd end up kissing her.

As soon as his lips started brushing hers, she felt her body burn with some sort of evil fire. As he went on kissing her softly, her nails were irradiating a strange prickling but warm sensation as they clung to his chest with the violence of trying to regain her freedom. Her nape was starting to sweat. She could no longer feel the gentle cool breeze on her exposed legs. The bathrobe suddenly was a burden to her arms. Her ears went red. Her cheeks were alight with shame. Lord Baelish was fully aware of what he was causing in her. But for him, it wasn't shameful that an older man like him could kiss a much younger female.

His lips slowly stopped kissing her and soon she gladly missed the burning contact.

"How can I ever argue against this?" He whispered calmly at her while his fingers were still glued to the small of her back and her delicate nape. "Why I let you do this to me is a mystery. I can't resist it." He said using a lust-driven voice.

She was dumbstruck by that comment. She had never envisioned something like that in her entire life: he was an older man whose only interest in women lay in the fact that they could become worthy prostitutes, nothing more. Then, why the staring, the lust and that kiss? Especially after discussing with her that King's Landing wasn't built on love? Or was it an act? Was he doing that on purpose to make her believe he could actually care for another human being to make her accept his previous deal?

Her heartbeats started bumping in her chest with an increasing pattern woven in hell. She even thought of Robb at that moment. If he was there, he could make Lord Baelish leave her alone. She wanted to slap him badly, but then she bit her lower lip once. She had come up with an idea.

"You're everywhere, right? So you already know who the mysterious murderer is. Lord Stark is just wasting time. Am I correct?" She asked seriously.

"Yes, you are." He smiled devilishly at her.

"Is there any use in asking after the murderer's identity?"

"No, my dear princess." He smirked at her.

"Why haven't you told the king or Lord Stark? Are you planning on asking for something in return?" She frowned.

"Quick learner. Everything's got a price tag, my dear princess." His smirk never seemed to fade from his face.

"Or is it because it's _you_, then?" She dared to accuse him directly.

He just chuckled darkly, but his face gave no hint that he would admit it, whether it was true or not.

"Should I be concerned about myself right now?" She dared to ask bravely.

"Oh, definitely not, my dear princess. You're safe and sound for as long as you're by my side."

"By your side _literally_ or _figuratively_?" She was referring to his previous deal.

"_Both_." His smile was displaying too much amusement.

"I completely disagree, Lord Baelish. You're not fooling me. You want me to accept your partnership deal. That's why you've been messing with me."

"I see." He chuckled again as he combed a strand of her hair and tucked it behind her right ear.

"Don't lose it, Lord Baelish." She whispered trying to sound menacing, although she knew he would never perceive any threat as truly menacing regardless of how imposing the physique, pose or tone of his interlocutor would be. And she knew she'd never feel menacing to him.

"Don't worry. I won't." He whispered back.

"I meant what I said earlier. I don't like your partnership deal." She said in earnest.

"And soon you'll realize that you _need_ me more than ever, especially after those murders today."

"Are you suggesting that you're the only one who can protect me from any harm?"

"I might be." His smile suddenly became something rare: a sincere one, warm and nice. It made her wonder what was really going on. "You're an _exception_, the _one and only exception_, my dear princess, that I'll ever concede to myself. I want to preserve you like this, the way you are now. You have no idea what is really going on, and you might was well be kept in the dark. Ignorance is a _blessing_ in a place where nobles die like flies, beaten and smashed when they bother certain people too much. Knowledge is power. Certain words, comments or acts might be constrained as inconvenient, and that's when people are found dead in the most intriguing of ways and places. But you… _Oh_, you! You're beautiful just the way you are… And I'm afraid that the knowledge of what's actually going on might break this blissful portrait of yours."

As much as she wished she could outsmart him, she knew she couldn't.

"What of the king and the Starks?" She suddenly asked. "They'll protect me. They might be do a better job than you, Lord Baelish."

He chuckled darkly.

"I highly doubt it, my dear princess. Especially Robb." His head was mildly inclined on one side when his eyes went extremely soft on hers, and his voice became a mere whisper when he went on like this: "Robb is way too young, ingenuous and polite to successfully protect you. Or to fully please a woman. He would never dare to make you feel this…"

And he leaned swiftly on her face to reap the sweet fruit of her lips once more, only to find her forefinger standing in front of his lips, straight and fierce, like The Wall in front of an army of wildlings.

"You won't do that again, Lord Baelish." She whispered seriously at him.

"Or what?" He whispered with a husky, lustful voice.

"Or I'll have your lips cut." She replied dryly.

"Oh, what awful crime have I committed, my dear princess?" He asked playfully.

"Using them on mine." She replied sternly.

He chuckled once.

"Just remember that I might also use them to protect you from the mysterious murderer, my dear princess." He added hissing like a snake. "My words work better that any other warrior's sword. Rethink my partnership deal. I might tell you who the murderer is and make sure you never get hurt. You'll teach my whores how to dance in the fashion of your home town. It'll throw the other brothels out of the game. We'll own the whole city. You're pure, and we all know that thanks to the purity test, so no one will ever doubt you, which means no one will defy your authority. You'll see to it that the political status quo in court might favour me, always, from now on until the end of our lives. In exchange for that, you'll have my guidance and protection, of course. Think carefully of the offer I'm willing to make you. I'm the best ally you can find. King's Landing is a dangerous place."

"Because you live in it." She replied straightforwardly.

He chuckled amused.

"But why all this sudden passion, then?" She wanted to know why he had kissed her. It made no sense. His deal didn't mention love or sex. There must've been a logical reason.

"You'll marry Robb, but you do not love him. I'm not blind. He's never getting your trust back, is he? Today he's angered you a great deal, hasn't he? A lot more than you ever thought he would. I will never anger you like that. He's willing to betray your trust just because he had a feeble hunch. He has failed you. I would _never_ fail you."

She fell silent. He suddenly fell silent too for some precious seconds, and he stared at her indecently in the meantime.

"And I _do_ find you beautiful and far more _interesting_ than any other lady in the court, which coming from me is something more than mere flattery. Do you understand what I mean?"

She just stared back at him, unable to decide which words to say then. Marian couldn't help but wondering what he was really thinking. If he knew everything, did that mean that he knew she was planning on leaving King's Landing to go to Qarth and get the cure back? Was he aware of the current state of affairs of that sailor locked in a dark corner of the stables? Why then hadn't he said anything about it to her? Or hinted at it even? Surely he'd be mad if she successfully escaped to Qarth without him knowing.

But then, Lord Baelish just kissed her hand gently and added:

"If there's anything I can add to this deal to convince you, just let me know. _Anything_, my dear princess. I can give you literally _anything_."

And then he left her chamber in the same fashion as he had entered in it.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Coincidence? You wanted to see me, right, my lord?" Jon Snow asked seriously, but as if he knew what he was doing there, in Lord Tyinn Lannister's study room. "I don't see the coincidence you're talking about."

The room was lushly decorated in deep red velvet curtains and cushions, but the most striking attribute was the huge basket of exotic fruit on a huge wooden table in the middle of the room. However, Lord Tywinn Lannister seemed to be bored with such items of luxury. He was seated on a huge, red velvet couch, and tons of books guarded his back from their assigned place in the enormous library behind him. one of those impressive, thick books lay on his lap, cautiously guarded by his right hand.

"Indeed, Snow. Please have a seat." Lord Tywinn replied. "The coincidence is as far as our futures are concerned. We might have the same goal, young man. Sit down, please."

As soon as Jon had sat on a matching, deep red cushioned couch in front of him and a fine glass coffee table, they stared at each other without saying anything further. But when a smile on Lord Tywinn Lannister came across Jon's almost at the same time, they chuckled in unison. The good mood of the Lannister man seemed contagious.

"What's that smile supposed to mean, boy?" Lord Tywinn asked daringly.

"You started it, my lord." Jon replied.

"Either you're a lot more cunning that I thought or just a fool. Do the news that I've just delivered to you on your way to the Wall make you laugh?" Lord Tywinn was actually in a really good mood.

"Please don't call me 'boy', my lord." Jon replied in a much more serious attitude, once more.

"Right. Such a treatment is unfit for you and I understand it now that I know everything about you." Lord Tywinn added seriously but fondly.

"That is, if what you stated in your letter is true, my lord." Jon Snow replied instantly.

"You don't trust me, then?" Lord Tywinn asked impressed.

"I definitely will if you give me proof of what you say. You seem to speak the truth, though. It's not a trifling matter, my lord." Jon insisted.

"Fair enough. I expected as much from you, though." Lord Tywinn concluded, accepting the doubts that Jon had.

"Then you shouldn't look so impressed by my attitude, my lord." Jon concluded.

"Direct. _Good_. I like that." Lord Tywinn smiled back at him as if he was enjoying the conversation a bit too much. "Here. Have a look at this. Read this passage." While Jon naively took the history book in his hands, Lord Tywinn chuckled and revealed to him something that had been obviously bothering him for some time during their conversation. He was too eager to show him something. "Once you finish reading this, tell me what you think of it, but mainly tell me _how_ I should call you. I wouldn't like to sound offensive."

"Revealing such information to me is more than enough when it comes to _not_ being offensive to me. The rest of the world might, though." Jon added darkly.

'With _one exception_, of course.' Jon thought with all the care in the world. A shy smile played on his lips as he thought of Marian and read on. 'If what Lord Tywinn Lannister says is true, I'm definitely not done with her. The Wall and my sad prospects will be left behind. This could change everything.'

"I hope you realise that I have a personal interest in this, Jon. May I use your name?" Lord Tywinn added seriously.

"You may."

"As I was saying, I hold a grudge against King Robert for what he did to my offspring and my grandchildren." He folded his hands before him with his elbows resting on either side of the couch. "Cersei and Jaime were not angels, let's say, but that doesn't mean that they should've been executed like lower-class thieves. I would've liked to punish them myself. Their punishment wouldn't have been a light one just because they were my children. I know how to enforce order." And then he added as he handed him over more documents. "Here, take a look at these, too."

"So you've got a motive for this." Jon concluded as he took them into his calloused hands and started reading those, too.

"And so do you, Jon." Lord Tywinn smiled at him.

"I understand."

"These documents confirm what you've read in that book so far. What do you think of it?" Lord Tywinn was too eager to know Jon's mind.

But Jon kept on staring at the key words once he had finished reading the whole thing through. Some of his long, dark curls had fallen by the side of his face as he had been reading. He didn't seem to believe it, although those documents were authentic. No signs of forgery could be spotted. His eyes were trembling a bit. That was it. Things would soon change a lot for him.

"The book looks like a journal by the way it's written." Jon started analysing the documents before him out loud to Lord Tywinn Lannister. "It's rather personal in the amount of details. And the documents belong to the Prince Rhaegar Targaryen."

"The book is signed by Rhaegar himself on the first page, Jon. You may check it if you don't believe me. And those pages belong to a long lost Last Will and Testament of his. See the signature? Some pages are missing, but I managed to find the most important ones and preserve them. They are authentic, believe me. They have cost me a fortune in the black market."

Silence reigned in the room.

"Jon, do you know what those documents proclaim as a whole?"

"The official documentation, though partial, confirms the authenticity of the journal." Jon replied formally. Then he seemed to hesitate, but he didn't dare go on speaking.

That made Lord Tywinn Lannister smirk.

"And that you're Jon _Targaryen_, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, the one and only true heir to the Iron Throne ever since he died, Jon."

Silence again.

"I assume you must've wanted to know your ancestry bearing in mind that Lord Stark has never dared to tell you the truth about it." Lord Tywinn went on quite leisurely. "Or he probably just told you some stupid lie about it. Exposing you for who you truly are would've been a risk on your life, but you would've found many supporters. There are quite a few of them, believe me. But Lord Stark preferred to let things be as they were instead of defending his deceased sister Lyanna's, your mother, honour and your safety, and the claim on the Iron Throne, of course – just because King Robert is his 'friend'. And now look at him: he's become Robert's lapdog even though the man obviously has no respect for duty and honour the way he understands them. My daughter knew him first hand… I advised her not to take it too much at heart, the fact that the king would fuck every single whore in Westeros, but she wouldn't listen. She was too jealous. He's got many faults apart from that one. But anyway…" He sighed briefly. "Jon, growing up as a bastard son of Lord Stark might have given you the insight you need to know who's who in this world. You've met other nobles and they've treated you like dirt. Am I wrong?"

"No, you're not wrong, my lord." Jon replied sadly.

"Tell me, how many people, of noble blood or not, have offended you in your whole life?"

"Quite a few, my lord." He said quietly.

"Tell me the truth, young man. Don't hesitate about it." Lord Tywinn insisted.

"The vast majority, Lord Tywinn." He replied with more confidence.

"And King Robert is one of those who have caused more suffering to you, right? Slaughtering your entire _true_ family and usurping the throne aren't petty evil deeds, are they?" Lord Tyinn commented with badly-repressed ire.

'And he separated me from Marian.' Jon thought darkly, but instead he replied politely:

"That goes without saying."

"Jon, forget about joining the Night's Watch." Lord Tywinn insisted with determination staring straight at him. "I'll give you support, someone to rely on, a useful and rich ally, an army and, most importantly, _revenge_. Fight against the king and slay him, because he deserves it. He killed your father. Now you could pay him back for what he did. And that last deed shall suffice for me. I just want justice for my deceased children in return, which you shall give to me once you behead him."

"I give you his death and you give me the Iron Throne. Is that it?" Jon concluded.

"You'll find no opponents, Jon." Lord Tywinn added convinced of what he was saying and doing. "Who would vow their loyalty to a fat, old man who drinks way too much, who's ruthless and mean to everyone, who's murdered innocent children, my grandchildren, and who farts in the most sacred seat in the whole kingdom?! As opposed to you, a young man with good character and disposition! Lord Stark might've withheld the truth from you, but he made sure you received a good education. I can see that. And everybody will once they know the truth. Those who have despised you will apologise and give you their support. As regards the king's education… _HA_! The second you slay King Robert dead, no one will mourn his death, believe me! And that bastard daughter he means to make a queen of someday isn't fit to rule either."

That last comment made Jon upset. His heart skipped a beat.

"She's got nothing to do with this, Lord Tywinn." Jon interrupted him all of a sudden with severity and pride. "She's far too young to have murdered a Targaryen. And she's just a doctor's apprentice. She's got _nothing_ to do with this."

"Of course… So I've heard. And I've also heard that the king is just using her because he's got no other option left. Cersei managed to kill the large horde of bastards he had bred." Lord Tywinn chuckled amused. "She's unimportant _as far as she stays out of the way_, and I know it, Jon."

And then Jon couldn't help but recalling what he had witnessed as he had fled from King's Landing only a few hours before receiving Lord Tywinn's letter and arriving to his castle: the multitude had been gossiping about the princess as he had been riding by on his horse, quite meanly, as if they were fed up the king's patched-up strategies to remain seated on the Iron Throne. The more they spoke of the bastard princess, the more interested they seemed to be in displaying their displeasure. They even dared to mock her, to laugh at her expense, to ridicule her even though they had never seen her even. She was just considered a foreign slut who would obviously take benefit of the situation. The more he accidentally overheard their conversations, the surer he was that they hinted at having her killed and that the king should take a new wife and start a new family again. And on and on their unknown voices went, complaining about dirty deeds Marian had never committed. Jon was flabbergasted to have heard it all, but he knew he couldn't do anything to save her at the time. But if he was a Targaryen, things might change. He could save her. Nevertheless…

"If she's so unimportant, so unfit to rule, why do you insist on having her murdered then?" Jon dared to ask using that dark, husky voice and those penetrating, deadly eyes that Marian feared so much.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Now I know you're the one behind the attempt of murdering her in Qarth. Admit it." Jon added with a husky voice. "You've just said you want king Robert dead, and Princess Marian is an obstacle to you, no doubts. The guards in Qarth were highly bribed. It can only be you, then. You're the only noble who is rich enough and who hates the king enough to do such a thing! You're the brain and the source of money behind this whole thing!"

"Smart boy, but I didn't plan it all on my own. I have many allies, young man." Lord Tywinn smirked at him deviously.

"You…!" Jon was about to lose his temper. His hands felt like they had life of their own and would love to strangle the man in front of him.

"_Ah-ah_. No, no, no. Easy, Jon. Keep calm and I'll tell you what we'll do, OK?" Lord Tywinn swiftly replied with a daring, threatening voice. "Look, I can tear up all these documents and no one will ever know who you really are. If you still insist to people on the idea that you're a Targaryen, no one will believe you. No proof will remain to uphold your words, not even if you accept the job I'm offering you and then you have second thoughts when you kill King Robert. I'm in control here. I'll destroy the documents and say that you lied to me and my men – and Stannis Baratheon, his brother, will be more than glad to have you beheaded if he becomes king. I may support him if you try to _betray_ me. And then I'll think of something else to get rid of him. Baratheons are going down, young man. _All of them_. No buts." He made a brief pause, only to go on with a merrier attitude like that: "Or you can just _leave_ my castle now and join the Night's Watch, like you intended to do this morning. I won't stop you. You can pretend you can forget about who you really are and what you could've become. You actually deserve it, but you may choose to leave it all behind, if you like." But then his voice grew thicker and meaner: "Or better still, you can join forces with me to avenge your parents and your dynasty, for real, for good. No hesitation whatsoever. Which shall it be, Jon?"

Jon didn't dare to answer.

"She's a Baratheon, Jon." Lord Tywinn insisted like a displeased father. "I know you care for her. I have my sources. She may be young, but she's still one of them. Tell me, has she left everything behind to stay by your side even though you haven't got a penny or a future to look forward to? Tell me, has she?"

Silence once more. Then, Job bit his lower lip briefly. Good Gods, he would've loved that! Marian even hinted at it when they were still in Qarth, but it had been him who had refused thinking it was the sensible thing to do at the time.

"_No_, she's decided to stay in King's Landing," Lord Tywinn went on proud of taking his own conclusions about how frail love could be as if he was tasting that bitterness himself once more. "with the _king_ and the _Starks_." He insisted with a deadly tone of voice, but he was relishing in delivering those hateful words. They felt like an axe beheading the little hope Jon still held dearly in his heart. "Kill her, bring me her lifeless, nice, tight ass to me, and I'll give you the _world_, Jon. Just _kill her, Jon_…"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

***P.S.: So? Did you enjoy it? Of course you did! You're GOT fans, right? GOT fans are proud of dark twists and turns in the plotline… and you love ****_complaining_**** about them all the ****_bloody_**** time, don't you? :P **

**So, here's the thing. I feel guilty for being such a ruthless procrastinator, which doesn't make me particularly weak or bad, just an idiot.**

**I apologize.**

**I'm awfully sorry if you thought that I've been careless and/or that I had decided to stop writing the story. In fact, I have the whole thing written down in notes format! So the plot is completely formed, ****_to the very end_**** – I just need some more time to write the whole thing ****_per se_****, with nice words and expressions and ****_blah blah blah._**

**I AM NOT LETTING THIS GO. I SWEAR IT BY THE OLD GODS AND THE NEW.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary**: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC

**Disclaimer**: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Previously…**

"Or better still, you can join forces with me to avenge your parents and your dynasty, for real, for good. No hesitation whatsoever. Which shall it be, Jon?"

Jon didn't dare to answer.

"She's a Baratheon, Jon." Lord Tywinn insisted like a displeased father. "I know you care for her. I have my sources. She may be young, but she's still one of them. Tell me, has she left everything behind to stay by your side even though you haven't got a penny or a future to look forward to? Tell me, has she?"

Silence once more. Then, Job bit his lower lip briefly. Good Gods, he would've loved that! Marian even hinted at it when they were still in Qarth, but it had been him who had refused thinking it was the sensible thing to do at the time.

"_No_, she's decided to stay in King's Landing," Lord Tywinn went on proud of taking his own conclusions about how frail love could be as if he was tasting that bitterness himself once more. "with the _king_ and the _Starks_." He insisted with a deadly tone of voice, but he was relishing in delivering those hateful words. They felt like an axe beheading the little hope Jon still held dearly in his heart. "Kill her, bring me her lifeless, nice, tight ass to me, and I'll give you the _world_, Jon. Just _kill her, Jon_…"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 17: She'll have you**

"What now, Jon?" Lord Tywinn Lannister insisted, staring fiercely at Jon. "Silence does not suit a king." His blue eyes were aflame with lust for power.

"Are you sure this documentation is not a forgery?" Jon asked hesitating.

He just couldn't believe he was a Targaryen, therefore the rightful king of Westeros. He stared back at Lord Tywinn Lannister while a rebel curl fell right beside his right eye. His dark pupils were heavily fixed on him.

"Why? Are you starting to doubt me and the veracity of these documents just because you do not like my plans for you, Jon?" Lord Tywinn Lannister replied angrily, suspecting the young man before him might betray him for a woman. "Because if you are far more worried about Princess Marian than yourself, _you_'ve got a _serious problem_ here." He was not a man to be toyed with, and he'd show his teeth to prove it.

"I want to know why you are so certain that the baby boy mentioned here is me." He half lied: he was actually worried about Marian. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life on the Wall, but he didn't want to kill her either. And then he asked: "Why are you so certain that I'm the one?"

"I'm not dumb." Lord Tywinn Lannister replied trying to remain calm. "I can see the physical resemblance. I see the Targaryen blood in you. And the Stark blood too. I can see why Ned Stark wanted to keep you aside, telling everybody that you were just a bastard son of his. Good disguise, but not good enough for me." Lord Tywinn Lannister was taking too much pride in those words. The grin on his lips was far too conceited. "It might be a good lie to fool servants and peasants. Other nobles would've spotted it like me too, had they had a chance to take a good look at you. But a bastard is never publicly displayed like a trophy, you know. That standard procedure suited a very specific purpose: it was meant to _protect_ you. And Lord Stark knew it would work if no other noble set their eyes on you. Should you have been recognized, you would've been in danger."

"You forget that King Robert has already seen me and taken interest in me. He wanted me sent to the Wall the second he discovered I had been close to his _recently discovered_ daughter." Jon added seriously.

"True." Lord Tywinn Lannister sighed in disbelief, but he was amused. "And I am still amazed at how stupid that _old fat bull_ is. You are just like your mother, the woman he had cherished like a madman. Maybe he's got some serious eyesight problem no one knows about." He just shrugged his shoulders once then.

Lord Tywinn Lannister then stared at Jon inquisitively, waiting for an answer.

"I don't know, my lord." Jon said then with mild hesitation, both referring to what he should do and the king's eyesight.

"Anyway, do we have a deal, son?" Lord Tywinn Lannister insisted.

"Errr…"

"I know I should give you some time to think about it, but unfortunately time is of the essence." Lord Tywinn Lannister went on seriously. "You can be sure of something: I won't cut you out. Ever. Unless you want to betray me, of course. Anyway, I'm not asking you a difficult question, aren't I?" He stared intensely into Jon's eyes, with such an unrivalled determination that knew no limits. "Do you want to live like a _dog_ or like a _king_? It's not a tough choice, is it?" He smiled devilishly. "Anyway, it's getting late. You should get some rest tonight."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In the meantime, that same evening King Robert Baratheon was getting drunk in his chambers, as usual. The only unusual thing going on was that he summoned a small group of men who did not belong to his guard of honour. They had been seen around before in the premises. The maids were terrified of them. The children always stopped playing and hid in a rush. Even the royal guards shivered beneath their armours when they saw them.

The King's hired killers, a group of four ruthless men who would stop at nothing. Once their minds were set onto some dark business, there was no good place to hide. Any target was dealt with without remorse, and forthwith.

The king might have something in mind, something that might not look good, especially after a couple of murders in the royal palace. And no sooner had these four men entered the king's chambers that everyone could feel how even flies were holding their breaths in anticipation of the worst.

"Hello there." The king greeted them seriously even though he was drunk. He was pouring a large cup of wine for himself as he was sitting at his writing table. There were some papers on the table, too, badly arranged, some were even torn. "You know why I might have summoned you, right? Let's get down to business, shall we?"

The four men were standing in front of him and his writing table, waiting for the most macabre of orders.

"Of course, your majesty." One of them replied straightforwardly.

"Here's a profile of her." The king went on handing them a piece of paper with a picture of a ginger-haired woman and some sentences scribbled on the back. "You know what you have to do."

"When do you want this done?" Another asked seriously.

"As soon as possible. You know, _as usual_." The king replied casually. "There's only one thing which will diverge from the _usual_ for this errand, my boys."

"We _don't_ appreciate changes, your highness." Another one of them said mildly pissed-off, assuming that change would be something to complain about.

At that, the king smirked deviously and replied:

"The only change now is… _this_!"

Having said that, he let a huge bag of golden coins fall on the table before him. While some of the golden coins rolled onto the table and eventually fell flat on its surface, the four hired killers smiled to themselves, and at the king.

"I know it's _more_ than usual," The King went on mildly amused. "but I guess this errand requires this much. Are you satisfied with this change?"

"Yes, you highness." They replied in unison.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The next morning the sun was rising, vowing the lovely promise that it would ensure a bright, warm day which would take all worries away. That could be true for anyone, except for one person.

A tight bun. Dark male clothing which did not really fit. Dark leather boots. A couple of knives duly hidden under the garments. A ragged bag. A dark cloak. A hat which was a bit too big… and a dissatisfied sigh briefly clouding the surface of a mirror.

"Not sure whether it'll work." Marian whispered to herself frowning as she examined her silhouette in the mirror of her room. "It's not my style to dress up as someone I'm not, a man for instance. But at least I'll be able to get past King's Landing guards unnoticed – I hope. I don't think they'll be looking for me for a couple of hours, anyway."

Retrieving the cure from Qarth and producing it in generous quantities was the only way she would get peace of mind. She had lost a father, but she could still save the world from that dreadful malady. One thing she was sure of was that the king might not see it fit for her to run away like that to perform precisely those activities which he had strictly forbidden her, but she could not care less. Her mind was set on a higher priority than being the next in line to rule seven kingdoms.

She knew her _former_ father would have been proud of her even though he had resented her choice the first time she had gone away. She knew a certain young man also would be proud of her – if only he'd known what she was up to from the cold, cold north.

Those last thoughts had drawn a sad smile on her face as she stormed down the stairs, entered the kitchens, exited unseen while she pretended to throw the garbage out and disappeared in the crowd down below the marketplace of King's Landing.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The docks were the greatest place to hide: lots of foreign people who barely knew the language, lots of ships constantly in and out, lots of bars, sluts, thieves, angry dogs, untrustworthy cats, filthy rats, barrels of dubious content, and last but not least, lots of people who practically begged to be bribed.

Marian soon found a captain who was beyond delighted to do as she said in order to get a small bag full of golden coins. No sailor would say a word, he promised. He would not say a word either.

"I don't ca'e wat you up to. Not even gonna ask, sir." The captain insisted.

"So this is just a normal transaction, right?" She insisted, making her voice sound grave and serious, much more like a man.

"For as long as you gimme _sweet_, _sweet_ money, sir."

She was grinning widely. He had mistaken her for a man – and she liked it. The less they noticed who she was, the better. They agreed to set sail for Qarth immediately. King's Landing shores were dimly fading away in the horizon when she started to evaluate what she knew for certain. She'd be on that ship for some hours, and she could use them to be sensible and wise.

She knew that King Robert was possessive, vicious and cruel, but not smart. That didn't give him much advantage in the game. But she knew someone who was all those traits and more: Lord Baelish. The one who had attempted on her life without much success was _also_ cruel and vicious, but with an unknown purpose. As _unknown_ as his or her name. With one exception: Lord Baelish said he knew – or at least _pretended_ to know – who the murderer was. She began to wonder whether that was an illusion to make her believe in him like a god, because he had claimed he was the only one who could protect her truly. He insulted the Starks – in fact, he was more than ready to spit venom out of his mouth on their family name. The Starks were too straightforward with honour and duty, quite the opposite of the current trend in King's Landing; therefore, he thought of them as fish out of water. So did she, of course. Not hard to deduce. Tricks, deviousness, threats and murders were not the weapons of choice for a Stark man. Those were Lord Baelish's, for example.

Then, why would King Robert choose such an ally to be Hand of the King when it was more than obvious that Lord Stark was unable to fit in? King Robert was a drunken idiot, to be sure; but why would he make such a foolish offer to a man who is not fit for the job? She knew Lord Stark was capable of doing a _good_ job, of course, but this shouldn't have been his task in life. If it should've been, King's Landing would be a much safer place. But they did not live in a heavenly wonderland where everything was _fine_ and people were always _nice_. Ned Stark would have been a good choice as Hand of the King in such a world.

Then, Marian thought that the king was desperate and out of allies in King's Landing. But couldn't he have _bought_ allies? She had seen despise in the servants' eyes, but silence sealing their lips. All his excesses might have made him a hateful clownish figure who did not work well enough as a substitute to the previous mad king. Something was amiss. The king had a lot of money, but she started to hesitate whether he had power. Was that the reason why she felt he was unable to protect her like the father she had expected him to be?

Had Lord Baelish expected to become Hand of the King instead of Ned Stark? Was his keen interest in her genuine, or was it a mere fancy? Well, she was sure that that last doubt should not cloud her judgement. It was unimportant for the time being. He had clearly stated his interest in the power and influence she could grant him – that was the key.

She wondered what the Starks thought of such a man like Lord Baelish. Robb had blindly suspected Jon of a crime he had not committed. Could either Robb or Ned Stark suspect Lord Baelish's true intentions? Could they see through him? She didn't think so. But why hadn't Lord Baelish turned to Robb with a plan and a deal instead of her? Or why not fool the king into trusting him? Usually men kept those things among themselves. Usually they trust no women when it comes to power. Why did Lord Baelish choose her?

But there was still a murderer on the loose. Marian knew that, as the king's daughter, she automatically had many enemies. Her uncles, for example. Her mother had shown where she stood on the subject too, but she would soon be dead as the King had promised her when they had first met. Marian was unsure as to whether he would dare to do it. He usually seemed to be too drunk to rule or do anything productive. In addition as regards the murderer, Lord Baelish had made no promises so as to apprehend the fellow. He had only offered her protection. He wanted her to feel insecure. She was sure of it. Lord Stark was the only one following the due course of a proper investigation, he had been the only one to worry about her. Lord Baelish had not offered much help in the last few hours. That made Marian think that Lord Baelish might have interests to protect around the subject and/or the person directly responsible for those murders – interests which he was obviously unwilling to share with her even though the proposition to be partners was still on the table. Was the murderer someone of noble blood? Or someone working for one of those? An ally to Lord Baelish, then?

She softly bit her lower lip for a couple of seconds, and then she whispered with mild anger:

"I shall not be toyed with."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

That same morning, the king received a raven from his favourite killers. The ginger-haired spy had been found and dealt with in the usual fashion. To make sure that they were true to their word, the king had always required them to send a token of their bloody deeds. Since a raven could not carry anything but a piece of paper, they sent a parcel via messenger which contained a blue eyeball, her right hand, her left ear with one of her worthiest earrings (one which the king recognized because he had given a pair of them as a gift to her a long time ago), and a handful of ginger hair.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In the meantime, Robb was still in high spirits, feeling warm by Marian's words of encouragement (even though she had got mad at him for the necklace issue, she was capable of thinking straight and move on), but he soon found out that it was going to be harder than he had expected. He had spent the night at a local inn, and the next morning he was fresh and ready to ride on. He had speeded up because he thought that his horse would soon take over Jon's in the path to the Wall; but, when he stopped by another inn further north, he thought it right to ask for him just in case they might have seen him pass by shortly before him or not, but no one had seen his brother.

"What do you mean you haven't?" Robb asked bewildered.

"I've told you, m'lord." A male peasant replied. "It's strange, but today no travelers have come north. Only the usual folk from town have."

Robb asked other men and women on the road, but they all delivered the same sterile answer. No one had seen Jon or anyone who might have looked like him. He thought it strange, since there was no alternative route to the Wall. Jon should have ridden on that same path on his horse. Robb was just about to expect the worst when suddenly a ten-year-old shyly approached him and spoke thus:

"M'lord, I think I saw him, but not here." The kid said timidly.

"Where then?" Robb asked impatiently.

"He stopped a few miles south, by a bar, when a messenger gave him a letter."

"A letter?" Robb asked frowning.

"Yes, m'lord. And then they left together. But not north, m'lord."

"Where to, then? Speak, child." Robb asked worried.

"They took a turn west, but I don't know where they were headed to, m'lord." The kid replied a bit frustrated. He thought he had not helped much.

"Thank you for the information, child." Robb replied gently but swiftly as he gave the kid a silver coin.

He didn't lose a single second to undo his path until he saw that bar. There he found a group of soldiers from Lord Tywinn Lannister, lots of them in fact. The Lannister coat of arms was everywhere. Robb found it wise to ask around, although he knew they might not be as responsive and kind like the kid. These men were famous for acting as ruthlessly as they pleased. Bearing in mind that Lord Tywinn Lannister did not care how his men behaved because he did not hold honour dear like Lord Stark did, Robb was not one bit surprised when those men were unwilling to share any kind of information with him – for free, that is.

A few minutes later, he was back on his horse once more.

'I'm not surprised that these men are soulless sons of bitches.' Robb thought with worry as he was riding hard to Lord Tywinn Lannister castle a few minutes later. He could see the trees fading from his eyesight at a great speed as he rode on and on. 'What I'm surprised at is that one of them was told to look for Jon, deliver a letter to him by his master, and take him back with him to Lord Tywinn Lannister's castle. In spite of such a weird wish on behalf of his master, he asked nothing as regards to what was going on. Lord Tywinn Lannister pays for secrecy, I guess. What is Lord Tywinn Lannister up to? What does he want from my brother?'

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In the meantime, Lord Stark had secluded himself in his chambers for hours on end because he was trying to figure out a way to know for sure who that vicious murderer was. All the questioning was over. He had heard everybody's stories and theories. As the Hand of the King, he had huge responsibilities. In spite of his deep thoughts, what was haunting him like an evil spirit was the mere idea that the King could be behind the whole thing. Would Lord Stark allow the truth to be hidden just to favour his friend, or would he dare to accuse him? If so, then what? Lord Stark was confused by something else, though: where did the attempted murder in Qarth fit in this scenario? Could it be the King too? If so, what did he want to accomplish? Was he mad? If not, were there perhaps two separate groups of people who wanted to kill the princess? But he had to acknowledge he had no proof to uphold a theory which could link both situations.

On top of that, Lord Baelish was acting suspiciously, as if he knew something he was unwilling to share. But basically that was him 24/7. Lord Stark had to admit that too. Lord Baelish had told Lord Stark during his questioning that he suspected the King because he had a habit to get rid of those who bothered him. Lord Stark sighed not knowing what to do. But then Lord Baelish also acknowledged that Robb seemed too interested in appeasing Princess Marian, in consoling her. When Lord Stark had madly defended his son then, and later demanded a sincere apology from Lord Baelish, he didn't resist it as much as Lord Stark had initially thought. Lord Baelish immediately apologized for having assumed that Robb could have killed two women just to make the princess more inclined to like him after what he had done.

Besides that, during the questioning the King had accused Lady Amiss of having something to do with it. Both Lady Amiss and the recently deceased Lady Bird were "friends". Well, at least, _most_ of the time. He hinted at their volatile personalities. But why kill the Septa as well? Or try to kill a princess in a foreign land, a girl she hadn't even met yet? It didn't make sense. The King was wrong, probably trying to misguide him. He was far too happy, and when Lord Stark asked him why on Earth he was so happy about, the king replied that the ginger spy had been murdered at last. Anyway, Lord Baelish had also given Lady Amiss' name as a potential suspect, but it couldn't be her. No, Lord Stark was firmly convinced of that.

Lady Amiss herself suspected Princess Marian, and gave no more names or clues as regards what she thought of the Septa or Lady Bird in terms of how annoying or rude they might have been to her. In fact, Princess Marian had got extremely angry at both dead ladies. But Lord Stark knew Princess Marian would never try to kill anyone. She used to be a doctor, she had a warm, tender heart and a very kind disposition towards absolutely everybody. But she had become royally pissed off, she had become a fearful thing to behold. Her fiery eyes! Lord Stark would never forget her mighty eyes as she had stood her ground in front of the King right after the purity test. Could the attempted murder in Qarth be a charade? Thus, could he consider her a suspect?

'No, no, no…' The thought in a rush, silently complaining of the massive headache he was having at the moment. 'It doesn't make any sense at all! I'm too tired. That must be it. I'm starting to be delusional.'

Lord Stark was under the impression that something was hiding in the dark, as if the enemy was smarter than he was. How could he unmask him? Or _her_?

Then, a new thought dawned on him.

'Could the murderer be someone from outside King's Landing?' He thought as if he had had a revelation. 'If so, who then? Why do I have the impression that Marian's biological mother is not finished with us? She _could_ be a suspect! Why haven't I thought of her before?! Although she had made it very clear that she wanted nothing to do with her daughter or the King, maybe she… Maybe she did it. Maybe she came here and killed both ladies. But let's not forget about the simple fact that she has been killed already: I cannot interrogate her. The King wanted her dead. But it could've been her all along. Just to piss the King off.'

Lord Stark had no proof of that, of course, but then both the attempted murder in Qarth and the Septa's and Lady Bird's murder, which would directly point to the King or Princess Marian as suspects, made perfect sense: that evil ginger spy would either make Princess Marian or the King, or both, pay for a crime they did not commit, and then the Baratheon's claim on the Iron Throne would be put in jeopardy. It would suit her original purpose. Then, had that woman allied herself with either of the King's brothers? Or some other noble who might be interested in dethroning King Robert? That might just make sense too. Or was she on her own? Lord Stark knew the Targaryen bloodline was still alive somewhere in Essos, a little girl had survived the killing a long time ago, but King Robert had given orders to assassinate her. And they had. The King's hired killers had done a good job. Or so they claimed. If they had not succeeded or had been fooled into believing they had accomplished their mission, could it be that that Targaryen girl had survived and that there was a plot to restore the Targaryen royal legacy? Was that theory too far-fetched?

Anyway, Lord stark was sure either of the King's brothers might consider the ginger former spy of King Robert a great asset to dethrone him. Lord Stark frowned hard.

Despite the massive headache, Lord Stark was sure that this theory made much more sense than the previous ones, which were basically a complicated web of mutual accusations, most of them based on resentment and lust for power. The _only_ problem was that he needed proof to uphold such a theory. He realized it might sound a bit far-fetched. He needed something to prove his suspicions were actually based on a solid base. Therefore, first things first:

"Come here." He gently told one of his guards. "You'll search in the whole kingdom and abroad for the ginger woman who gave birth to Princess Marian, but you will not say a word about this to anyone. I want to know whether she is actually dead or not. Please, be extremely discreet. It is an extremely delicate issue. If she is alive, she might pose a huge threat to us all. She might be working against the King on behalf of his brothers or some other noble who might be interested in dethroning the King. If you find her alive, you have my permission to kidnap her. If she tries to kill you, kill her. But try to make her confess her crimes against the crown before you do. The King wanted to get rid of her, but she might have escaped because she's clever and resourceful. Bring proof of her alleged crimes against the crown and I will reward you handsomely."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The warm sand of Qarth greeted her feet once more right after she had descended from the ship that early afternoon. Her dark brown boots could not get rid of those little bits of earth as she walked on by, as if by clinging to her boots those bits of earth could somehow express the remorse that the land which had been her former home was suffering from because she had been forced to leave for good.

The intense aroma of various spices filled the air. The marketplace was like a busy hive that day as she swam through waves and waves of people. Those good familiar sounds of her mother tongue ignited sparks of life in her heart. She felt truly at home as she was hearing the people speak, and then she pretended she had not overheard a thing. She shied away when a three-year-old girl started staring at her as if she had caught her in the act.

She loved those stalls full of pineapples, peaches, cherries, apples, figs, oranges, and other foreign fruits. She would have called them one by one, as if they were old friends. Fruit had always been a passion, like that imposing and magnificent, warm, tropical sunlight.

But her heart suddenly sank the second she warned herself once more. She should be careful. Here she could be recognized easily. Her old neighbours and friends might be around. Her wannabe killer might be here as well. Who knew? Luckily, she had a powerful disguise. No one seemed to pay attention to her in those a bit too loose manly clothing. The hat helped a lot, though. Its long brim covered the upper half of her face if she slightly bowed. It provided a dark, long shadow on her face if she just didn't. Either way, it protected her identity. She smirked at herself as she passed by a round mirror in a lovely-decorated frame which was exposed in a jewelry stall.

One step after another, her dark silhouette soon disappeared in the engulfing, deafening crowd of the marketplace.

Soon afterwards, she had finally arrived at her destination: Lord and Lady Sunnyhap's palace. The guards let her to a waiting room which led to Lord Sunnyhap's personal study room. Apparently, Lady Sunnyhap was paying a visit to a good old friend – or so a maid had told her as she offered her a cool drink while she was waiting. A few minutes later, she was let into the study room to meet Lord Sunnyhap. It was only then that she eventually revealed her true identity.

"I'm awfully sorry to bother you once more, Lord Sunnyhap." She began as she took off her hat. Her long wavy hair fell down on her shoulders. "Especially because it was only a few days ago that I was here, demanding the exact same thing from you."

The silk curtains hanging in front of the open windows were undulating freely behind her back, its bright colours provided a stark contrast to her dark hair.

"And alone you come to my house, Princess Marian?!" He exclaimed unaware that she loathed his paternalistic attitude towards her. "Please tell me that you have not dressed up like a man to travel on your own!"

"Actually, I did." She replied calmly, not even batting her eyelashes once.

"How suicidal of you to do such a thing! The murderer must still be on the loose, am I right? Or have your father's guards got hold of him?" He asked hoping they had.

"Nope. Still on the loose." She replied casually.

"Then, are you out your mind?!" He asked almost enraged at her foolishness.

"_You were_ when you denied me the contents of my bag back when I was last here." She answered with pride.

"You were not allowed to work as a doctor, and I assume you are _not_ still. Do not try to fool me. I did what was best." He insisted acting like a father.

"And you are _allowed_ to let your men die because you won't let me do my job. You will _fool_ yourself." She added seriously.

"Don't you dare to speak to me like that!" He burst out. "Princess or not, you should moderate your speech! Your pride is a most unwanted personality trait!"

"I am not here to offend you, Lord Sunnyhap." She went on as seriously as before. "A major crisis is about to break out. I am afraid that I need the cure I developed: the illness is beginning to spread in King's Landing. The issue is beyond my pride or your stubbornness. We need to do something. Now. I need to carry a bottle of it with me to King's Landing and stop the illness before it spreads. If I had been allowed to stay here, I would have speeded its production to save the population by trading the raw materials and following my notes. Qarth's patients still need it, but there are a lot more to come. I assume you have made plans towards that aim, at least. How is it going?"

"No such plans have been made, Princess Marian." He replied almost whispering, with a dreadfully serious attitude.

"WHAT?!" She exclaimed unable to believe it.

"No one has made any preparations of the kind." He elaborated seriously.

"Are you telling me that you don't care that _your_ people die?! But why haven't you-?!" She asked in anger.

"I haven't got it." He admitted feeling torn.

"What?"

"The Thirteen have it." He added then. "The minute you left Qarth, they came to me demanding me to hand it over. They knew about the cure. I don't know how, but they did. And I could not refuse their commands. They have it now, your notes too. And from where I see it they are keeping it to themselves. They have absolutely no intention to share it with the peasants, servants or anyone, much less give it to you, I'm afraid."

"What…?" She could not believe a word of it.

"I am sorry." He apologized.

"Tell that to the dying man who's desperately waiting for me to come back and save him!" She exclaimed enraged.

"He's doomed unless you find a way to develop it once more from scratch." He told her seriously.

"Have you got the _slightest_ idea of how much work and effort it took?!" She said almost losing it. "And besides, to do that I'd have to travel to Winterfell and stay there once more, which I cannot do freely like before because now everybody knows who I am! They would not let me do a _single_ thing if I went there!"

"I really don't know what you expect me to do for you." He said when she started staring at him as if he had to provide a solution right away. "I am not going to defy the Thirteen for you. The only thing that's sensible now is to let your father know you are here, safe and sound, and arrange your trip back home on my personal ship."

"You must be kidding me!" She exclaimed seriously, her eyes aflame.

"Princess Marian, please. I know that look in your eyes. You are not going anywhere." He tried to reason with her.

"I'm going to make the Thirteen listen to me and bow." She added with determination and anger. "The cure _was_ and _is_ mine by right. If I say I need it, I shall have it. No buts."

"Who is this man you are trying to save with such passion, pray?" He asked then, curious to know why such passion was needed. "If you put so much fierceness in it, it must be because… Is he one of the nobles in King's Landing?! _Is it the King_?!"

"No." She sighed.

"Then…?"

"You wouldn't understand."

And her soft, merciful eyes were the last he saw of her. She left right away to meet the Thirteen, whether they liked it or not.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Very well, then." Lord Tywinn Lannister said gently even though he had expected to make Jon give him a definite answer that bright morning. "I will give the two of you some privacy. Robb, you must be tired of riding. Ask my servants for anything you might need. Jon, think my proposal through, please. Give me an answer as soon as possible."

Having said that, he closed the door behind him and left the two young men on their own in the guest chambers he had made prepare for them.

"What the hell are you doing here, Jon?" Robb whispered with bewilderment and worry. "Lord Tywinn Lannister isn't someone you should trust."

"Shall I discuss trust with you, Robb? Really?" Jon replied with mild sarcasm and a lot of contained anger.

"Actually, yes." Robb answered with determination, which left Jon speechless. "Marian has suggested me that I should find you and make amends with you, Jon." He added with remorse.

"She knows? She knows what you've done to me because of her?! How?"

"She's seen this." Robb said taking the necklace out of one of his pockets. "By the way, it was meant to be yours. You should keep it." Robb said handing it over. "I told her the truth, and she was angry at me, to put it mildly." He sighed with remorse. "She said that I should look for you before you reached the Wall and apologise. And that's why I'm here. Jon, will you listen to me, please?" Robb insisted because Jon wasn't willing to listen to him. The tired look on his face told as much.

"Yes, Robb. Go on if you must." Jon finally replied truthfully and calmly.

"I must because I want to, not because she said so." Robb insisted.

"Fair enough."

"Jon, I'm awfully sorry for what I did to you." Robb said in earnest. "I was not only foolish, but also unjust. I promise that what happened will determine how much I'll think things through in the future. I've learnt that if I hurt you, I hurt myself as well. Having said that, I apologise. Will you ever forgive even though I may not deserve it?"

"You were forgiven the second you've said my name with remorse, Robb." Jon replied mercifully, just like he would've talked to him back in those good old days in Winterfell. "You don't have to worry."

"So, may I ask you why Lord Tywinn Lannister has invited you to his castle? I was worried about you when I was unable to find you on the road."

"I've got striking news to reveal to you, Robb. You should sit down." Jon said seriously.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"I get it, Jon." Robb added calmly after Jon had revealed him the truth about his legacy. He didn't believe him at first, but as Jon explained it all he came to terms with the truth. "I understand that you need some time to think this though. Lord Tywinn Lannister has been very kind and thoughtful. Believe me, I thought he was a much starker and somber character, but I admit I was wrong."

Jon has not told him absolutely everything. He had left the darkest bits for the end. Robb went on talking while Jon kept on trying to veil how hurt he felt. The issue was becoming a burden he was sure he would not be able to stand.

"He's a powerful and kindhearted ally. This guest chamber he's prepared for you is beyond amazing." Robb went on talking with a smile on his face.

It was true. The chamber was pure luxury. Every item, every detail was superb. Fine furniture, silk curtains, superbly-elaborated carpets, and gold in decorations everywhere. That man was loaded.

"He feels the need to please me to the best of his abilities. Keep in mind that he wants me to become king. He's not kindhearted." Jon said seriously, with a down-to-earth approach.

"Fair enough, then. It's a matter of interest." Robb admitted then.

"You don't know the worst part of it, though." Jon added seriously, feeling sick at the prospect of telling him every last detail about Lord Tywinn Lannister's evil master plan.

"The worst of it?! Jon, you were meant to be king! That's good, not bad!" Robb insisted feeling joy.

"He wants me to kill King Robert, a man, Robb." Jon whispered with dread.

"You have killed before, Jon." Robb answered seriously, copying Jon's down-to-earth tone of voice.

"Wildlings." Jon replied. "Not kings. Not Lord Stark's best friend. Not Marian's father." His tongue felt heavy in his mouth all of a sudden.

"She's not particularly attached to him." Robb confessed. "You should've seen her rage towards him. He's not a proper father as she had probably expected."

"Why was she mad?"

"Because the King doesn't act like a real father." Robb explained. "He's so unlike the one who she had had back in Qarth, I guess. At least, she had expected to be treated like a person. When she accused him of using her to make people believe that his claim on the Iron Throne was stable by ensuring the Baratheon bloodline through her, he made pathetically meek comments and made no real move to appease her. I assume that he thought she'd be more manageable, more inclined to worry about girly things like the other ladies from the court. On top of that, he was having an affair with one of the ladies of the court, _same age_ as her – and Marian knew. You should've seen her fire, Jon. _What a blast!_ That lady was murdered soon afterwards, and the Septa too, under suspicious circumstances. Our father thinks the murderer was after Marian. Well, errr… I mean, I should probably say it was Lord Sta-"

"It's OK, Robb. It's the force of habit." Jon replied calmly. "Don't worry."

"Anyway, when you dethrone King Robert, you may imprison him or exile him." Robb went on in a matter-of-fact attitude. "I'm sure Lord Tywinn Lannister will understand. It's been done before. You will be able to marry Marian, like initially planned." Robb added with a soft smile. He couldn't help but feeling both sad and happy at the same time: sad for himself because he'd be losing the love of his life, but happy for Jon. He knew those two were meant for each other no matter what. "You look stern, Jon. This could turn out really well. It will. I'll help you, man. Why this ugly frown, then?"

Good Old Gods! It was so obvious that Robb was looking too far ahead into the future without knowing half of the story!

"Lord Tywinn Lannister explicitly said that he wants King Robert dead." Jon swallowed hard. "And _Marian_, too."

"WHAT?!" Robb exclaimed unable to believe it.

"He was behind the attempted murder in Qarth. He confessed it to me yesterday." Jon came closer to Robb and whispered nervously as if he thought the nearby walls had ears. "He's dangerous, Robb! Extremely dangerous. He might also be the one behind those two murders in King's Landing. He's ruthless. You don't know the threats he's launched at me just to make sure I do as he pleases! He will stop at nothing to get what he wants. If I don't comply with the King's and Marian's deaths, he'll say that I've lied to him to the other lords and ladies, that I lured him into believing I'm a Targaryen and the rightful king for my own benefit. I'd be beheaded for treason! The only sane option I've got left is ignoring the truth and head to the Wall as if I knew nothing."

"I can't believe this." Robb whispered astonished.

"You should go back to King's Landing and make sure Marian is fine." Jon insisted feeling sad, but convinced that he was right. "Become king and make the palace a safe place for her. That's the _only_ way. _No one_ should ever know who I really am. And I'll die a happy man on the Wall. It was meant to be."

"You'll die a _resentful_ man on the Wall, Jon." Robb replied sternly. "Don't do it. You'll regret it all your life. You just… You just don't have to kill her."

"Then how do you suggest I get out of this knotty situation?" Jon asked a bit exasperated.

"I've got an idea." Robb suddenly said. "Let's see if this would work: you tell Lord Tywinn Lannister that you accept his plan. I'll bribe a guard to steal those documents you were talking about which prove you are the last Targaryen left. In the meantime, we'll convince him that we are fully on board. Father will know everything and he will help us. I'll send a raven as soon as possible. Other nobles will support you as well like Lord Tywinn Lannister, but unlike him they won't hold anything against you. Only Lord Stark will know the whole truth so that he can protect Marian instead of me. If I left now as you suggest, it would look suspicious, wouldn't it? When we're sure she's safe, we'll march to King's Landing with Lord Tywinn Lannister's army, as he has promised you. You slay King Robert dead and when Lord Tywinn Lannister claims Marian's head, we'll say she's not there, that she may have fled the capital and exiled herself. Then, he might send guards to look for her and bring her back. Or _you_ might do it, just to look as if you're still fully on board with his plans. But father will make sure no one finds her. Then, once you're crowned king, Lord Tywinn Lannister will not dare to defy you. The documents will already be on our hands. Later, we come clean about Marian. And Lord Tywinn Lannister fucks off! You may punish him for trying to kill her, if you want. You'll already be king – no one will question your orders. Both of you get married after that. And that should be it. So… what do you think of it?"

"Robb, are you sure this is going to work?" Jon asked feeling he could actually do it, only with mild hesitation in his heart. "Please, please, _please_,… tell me this is going to work."

"I'll send a raven to father right away." Robb replied smiling as he began to write a letter to Lord Stark. He sat down while Jon stood by his side, half absently staring outside a nearby window.

"So that means that I am going to kill King Robert in the end." Jon whispered then with distress, remembering the terrible vision by the godswood which he had had the day before they had set sail to Qarth. He remembered clearly how he was sitting on the Iron Throne right after having slain the king, who lay lifelessly bleeding on the marble floor, and how he had Marian sitting on his lap, and a dagger in his hand aiming at her neck, spilling her blood. But he shook his head.

"Or you could exile him, like I have suggested." Robb insisted, but Jon had not been talking to him but to himself.

"Robb, she's got no other relative alive, apart from her mother, who was willing to lie to her and harm her in the process, and whom has made it quite clear that she doesn't want to have anything to do with her." Jon added sadly. "Killing or exiling him do not feel right."

"The mother's dead by now, probably. Or she is good as dead, at least. Father told me the king wanted her killed." Robb replied.

"What?" Jon stared at Robb not wanting to believe how ruthless the king was. When Robb just rolled his eyes once and shrugged his shoulders as if he didn't know what to say next, Jon sighed once and went on speaking. "She'll feel miserable. _I_'ll make her miserable. She's already lost a father, she can't lose another. She's lost too much already."

"She'll have _you_." Robb concluded warmly.

"What if the other nobles demand me to kill her? She's King Robert's only daughter and heir at the end of the day."

"Say you want to put an end to the enmity, that you'll marry her for that purpose." Robb replied casually. "Cut out all that nonsense of hailing bloodshed. Why should they care if you already love her? I don't think that anyone will dare to oppose. I'll help you out if things get tough. I don't see any problem here."

Jon hesitated. He remembered his vision clearly. In the end a dagger was aimed at her lovely neck, by his own right hand. If her light pink silk dress was real, the very same she had worn that night they made out in Lord Sunnyhap's palace, which was the same she was wearing in that vision, why not the rest of the prophecy delivered by the godswood? Jon didn't dare to tell Robb about it although he was madly worried.

"Everything will be fine." Robb added eventually. "If you keep calm, everything will go as planned. I promise."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**So this is it, little doves. ;)**

**Hope you liked it! I'll keep you waiting a bit more now (sorry), 'cos the next chapter is a bit messy.** **I have the nasty habit of writing in a frenzy, then cut stuff out, paste it somewhere else, later erase it 'cos I'm not satisfied with it, rewrite it again, and then try to make sense of it. In the meantime, you wait and suffer for your favourite character's fate. I'm the bloody worst. Enough blah, blah, blah…!**

**C U soon!**

**Love,**

**Denim Jean**


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary**: Jon Snow meets a young woman (Marian) who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious illness which is killing people in Qarth, her home. Will she achieve her goal before it's too late? Who will help/delay her? JS/OC

**Disclaimer**: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Previously…**

"She'll feel miserable. _I_'ll make her miserable. She's already lost a father, she can't lose another. She's lost too much already."

"She'll have _you_." Robb concluded warmly.

"What if the other nobles demand me to kill her? She's King Robert's only daughter and heir at the end of the day."

"Say you want to put an end to the enmity, that you'll marry her for that purpose." Robb replied casually. "Cut out all that nonsense of hailing bloodshed. Why should they care if you already love her? I don't think that anyone will dare to oppose. I'll help you out if things get tough. I don't see any problem here."

Jon hesitated. He remembered his vision clearly. In the end a dagger was aimed at her lovely neck, by his own right hand. If her light pink silk dress was real, the very same she had worn that night they made out in Lord Sunnyhap's palace, which was the same she was wearing in that vision, why not the rest of the prophecy delivered by the godswood? Jon didn't dare to tell Robb about it although he was madly worried.

"Everything will be fine." Robb added eventually. "If you keep calm, everything will go as planned. I promise."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 18: Unwanted suitors**

The previous night, in Qarth, was meant to be a heated one. She was headed to see the Thirteen and demand an explanation. Lord Sunnyhap was convinced that the information about the existence of the cure could not have been leaked by anyone under his roof. Therefore, Marian thought the Thirteen might have had a spy or might have bribed someone in exchange for any information as regards herself. But she still thought that something was amiss as she entered the palace of the Thirteen.

"Princess Marian, I had expected you would eventually come by." The Spice King said casually, but gladly. "And I have to _thank_ you."

The Spice King, seated on a luxurious golden armchair, was one of the members of the Thirteen, the ruling council in Qarth, formed by aristocratic descendants of the former kings of Qarth, the most successful tradesmen, and a powerful warlock. They held council usually in their own bountiful palace, a common area which belonged to every single one of its members, and yet none of them could make use of it individually. They were said to meet and rule Qarth in peaceful terms, or so Marian had always thought ever since she was a child, although the atmosphere that night seemed rather thick with tension and mistrust. The whole party was summoned in a single meeting room. All of them were seated around a large round table, and on expensive armchairs. There were papers, notebooks, fruit and some wine. But she had clearly interrupted something by the look of everybody's faces. She wondered what they had been discussing right before she had entered the room without any kind of warning. The silk curtains and the flames of the candles nearby were undulating due to the soft night breeze. So was her long hair, now free from that bun she had previously devised to travel unnoticed with.

"_Thank_ me? What for?" Marian asked rising an eyebrow.

"I have won the bet." The Spice King replied with satisfaction. "Pay up." He told his fellow members of the council with pride, shooting his palm in front of their stern faces.

"A bet? You had a _bet_ on me?" She asked feeling indignant.

"I had bet that you'd come to us against all odds." The Spice King replied then. "While the rest disagreed with me."

"I had bet you'd never come back and stayed in King's Landing." The Silk King said not feeling amused that he had lost the bet. Then, he took out some gold and paid his colleague.

"I had bet you'd be killed." The Copper King said then half-frustrated, also paying up.

"How _nice_ of you to think about me in those terms." She replied sarcastically while the other members were paying their share.

"And I bet that you'd elope with that bastard kid from Winterfell." Xaro Xhoan Daxos said seriously in the end, staring intensely at her, right after paying up. He had been the last one to do so.

Silence reigned in the room. That was a low blow.

Marian just rolled her eyes and pretended not to feel offended. Mentioning Jon to her might have been disrespectful, but for as long as she pretended not to care, she'd be fine – in social terms, that is. She honestly thought that, if she could fool them with such a detached emotional reaction, she might just misguide them into believing she actually was not that fond of Jon (it could be a rather predictable reaction on a young woman facing the challenge of becoming a princess, let's face it), and later she could probably lure them into giving her back what was hers by right. If she played her cards right, she might still have a chance to win.

"I'm sorry I may have interrupted your meeting." She said changing the subject rather formally. "But I'm afraid you have something that's mine."

They smiled to themselves then. They knew what she was talking about. The cure and her notes.

"You are smiling. Good. You know what I want." She added, feeling proud and sure of herself. "Or rather _who _I want. Don't just sit there smiling. Give _him_ back to me."

Suddenly they frowned and stared back at her with curiosity.

"_Him_?" The Silk King asked almost whispering, not knowing what – or rather _who_ – she was referring to.

"Josua." She said with fiery eyes.

They stared back at one another inquisitively, not knowing how come she could say such a thing.

"What about him?" The Silk King asked after giggling a bit. He hadn't dismissed the idea that at the end of the day she was after the cure, not after Josua.

"Do not pretend I am stupid and easily fooled because I am a woman or young." She replied immediately and drastically. "Lord Sunnyhap does not know how you had known about the existence of the cure that I developed for my father. And his marriage is strong. He has assured me that Lady Sunnyhap holds their secrecy sacred, just like him. The servants are trustworthy and well-paid. The only people left who knew about the whole thing were my friends from Winterfell, whom I fully trust, and Josua, who I assume you have lured into a trap… or into riches, although he clearly does not need more than what his family already has. Or have you got something on him to threaten him with?"

"You forget your father. It _might_ have been him." The Silk King pointed out seriously.

"The Old Gods may have had mercy on him and let him rest in peace." Xao Xhoan Daxos respectfully said then.

Silence once more.

"He would've _never_ betrayed me." Marian finally said, breaking the silence.

"We know about your dispute and the inheritance feud." Xao Xhoan Daxos said then quite formally.

"Which doesn't prove a thing." She added defiantly but calmly.

"But you still might've felt aggravated. And I assume he might have as well. He was said to be a proud, stubborn man." Xao Xhoan Daxos insisted seriously.

"In case you _didn't _know (which I don't believe to be true), it was solved in the end." She added seriously, but confident.

"True, but –" He wanted to add in a rush.

"The _mere_ fact" She cut his speech immediately. "of having you somehow _desperate_ to convince me now that it was my father, and not Josua, who has told you about the cure is more than _enough_ for me. You are protecting him. It's obvious by now. This is proof that it was Josua, not my father, who's told you. Therefore, you've lured him, right? You promised him something?" She asked defiantly.

"In any case, what do you suggest we do for you, Princess Marian? Shall we call for him?" The Spice King asked her feeling amused.

"Why not?" She asked back defiantly. "If he gets on this well with you that he's more than willing to tell you anything, where is he? Have you thrown him into jail now that you don't need him anymore perhaps? Have you killed him instead, so that he won't ever talk about it to anyone? Or has he _mysteriously_ disappeared?"

Silence once more. She stared inquisitively at each and every one of them, trying to make them engage in conversation anew, but it was no use. The breeze intensified for a moment, and the candles fought to keep their flames alive. It was as if something nasty had happened, something that might be unsettling or upsetting.

"What?" She asked almost whispering. "Does that mean that I'm right?"

"I'll do it." Xaro Xhoan Daxos admitted when no one dared to speak any further. She stared directly at him. That was it: a potential admission of guilt. Then, he went on: "Josua betrayed you. That is true and we should admit it to you, not hide it any longer. I'm awfully sorry, Princess Marian."

"Thank _you_." She replied sarcastically. "How _loyal_ of him _if_ what you say is true!"

Marian didn't think they were speaking the truth.

"And then he betrayed us too." Xaro Xhoan Daxos sighed and said in the end.

"What?" She replied frowning. She didn't see that one coming.

"He came to us with the information by his own free will." The Copper King added seriously then. "We were glad to know about your work, Princess Marian. We told him we were interested in that cure you had developed. We saw the commercial future of its production and wanted to make sure that the venture would actually become a stable line of business."

"Without you leading the project – because you had to go to King's Landing and stay by King Robert's side –, we thought the whole idea would die." The Silk King went on explaining then. "Therefore, we even offered him the chance to become the manager instead of you. We thought you might've appreciated the gesture because you were in good terms – or so we thought."

"Let me add that we do not trust Lord and Lady Sunnyhap." The Spice King told her then seriously. "They do not meet all the requirements to be among us, the Thirteen. Should _some_ of us die or be replaced, there is a _slight_ chance that Lord Sunnyhap might have taken one or our places. _Eventually_. That was why we _didn't _want him knowing any of this. However, Josua belongs to an extremely successful family lineage of noble tradesmen. His father is a great asset to us. He's done us a lot of favours. That was why we thought he was the best candidate."

"But no sooner had we consented and given Josua the first instructions to retrieve the cure and your notes from Lord Sunnyhap's palace right after you had left, he disappeared." Xaro Xhoan Daxos added sadly then. "We lost contact with him. He might have told Lord and Lady Sunnyhap about us probably, never revealing his true intentions. I assume that's why you're here. Lord Sunnyhap knew we had something to do with it, didn't he? I wonder who might've told him." He added a bit sarcastically. "Anyway, we had envisioned that you could eventually come here, demanding that we give you what is yours. It was a possibility. Some thought it possible. The majority of us didn't. Thus, the bet. The Spice King was the only one to remain firm in his opinion, though."

"And I'm glad I was not wrong." The Spice King said then with a genuine smile. "And we wanted to convince you now that it had been your father who had told us because he's already dead and there's nothing to be done to amend it. We know both Josua and you have been childhood friends, someone you might not expect to betray you. This piece of news might be a blast on you. We did not lure him, we did not promise anything special as a reward of which you might've disapproved, we did not kill him or torture him or bribe him. He stole the cure and your notes, and vanished."

'And I thought these people, the Thirteen, had stolen and were taking advantage of my work.' She thought unable to believe that it had actually been Josua the one who was seeking a personal interest. 'Can this information about Josua be true? Their faces and voices seem to hold the ultimate truth.'

"And as regards the discussion you have interrupted," The Spice King told her. "well, we were still arguing about what to do about Josua and the cure, just in case you would've never come back or in case Josua decided to tell us what has become of him."

"Some of us even thought he had been _your_ ally all along, trying to play tricks on us." The Copper King added sternly then.

"Me?! Behind all this?!" She asked bewildered by such an accusation. "Why would I even tell Josua to tell you about the cure if my intention was to keep it anyway?! I hold _no grudge_ against you! This is insane."

"True. But we have the habit to suspect anyone. At the end of the day, you belong in King's Landing." Xaro Xhoan Daxos replied, assuming that she was representative of King's Landing deviousness. "It _must_ be in your blood."

"King's Landing is _not_ in my blood!" She replied in anger in a nanosecond.

"That's what _you_ say." Xaro Xhoan Daxos concluded, satisfied that she couldn't prove that she was not playing with them, or trying to, like it was the style in King's Landing.

The fact is that she had come there with precisely that intention, to play with them, to fool them into giving her the cure back. She frowned. Was Xao Xhoan Daxos right about her true character? Did she actually belong in King's Landing?

"So now what?" Marian asked saddened and angry. "What course of action have you taken so far?"

"We haven't done much as regards this issue." The Silk King informed her. "We don't fight for something which has less and less chances of becoming a viable project."

"In _financial_ terms, I assume?" She asked a bit deflated.

"Yes, of course." The Silk King replied casually.

"If you do not have what I need or any information as regards Josua's whereabouts, then what use are you to me?" She asked daringly. "Is that how you've always ruled Qarth? By withdrawing when you should spring into action when it's most needed? It still is a _viable _project! The people _need_ this cure! There's still patients who need it _now_, or there will be patients who will need it in the future! Do you still want to develop the cure or not?"

Silence. They seemed to love it bearing in mind they fell silent every now and then.

"We have other commercial ventures which need our immediate attention, Princess Marian." Xaro Xhoan Daxos replied in the end. "If you want to retrieve what's yours, it's fine to us. We've told you all we know. We've helped enough."

"Sure, why not." She answered defiantly. "Don't come looking for my help if you need the cure for yourselves one day."

And then she slammed the door behind her.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

She didn't mean it.

She would help them and cure them if they needed it. She knew she would. Being a doctor meant not making differences among the people. Wealth or class didn't matter, but she was finding it hard not to succumb to her feelings. Her pride was telling her that they didn't deserve a single moment of her time. She hated how she had been betrayed once, twice, over and over again. They were unwilling to help. And now it had been Josua the one who had betrayed her. What for? Was it because she had not accepted his marriage proposal and left to Westeros? Was it because she loved Jon? Or because she'd marry Robb?

Sighing in a physical need to let all the pressure in her go, she stared into the night's sky and wondered what was wrong with people, why there were so many problems and obstacles on the way, why she had felt so alone those last few weeks. Back in Winterfell, if it hadn't been for Jon's kind heart and disposition for example she would've felt completely torn and hopeless. Maester Luwin had also provided a good company every now and then. Arya was amusing and challenging. But it had always been Jon who'd stir her will to go on, with those eyes and his kind words. All her previous weeks travelling through Westeros had been a nightmare, but when she came to Winterfell she found herself comfortable and at peace for the first time so far away from home. She would've eventually given up her goal if they had never met, if he had never accepted to stay close to her, to protect her from any harm.

She promised herself that she would be back here, in Qarth, with the cure in the future to save those in need. That is, if she was able to retrieve it and start a sustainable production of it. She would definitely do it once her problems had been duly solved. She hoped so.

Then, she sighed once more to the night's sky and hoped for the best.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Marian came back to Lord Sunnyhap's palace in a quite defeated attitude, where the latter was pacing nervously up a down his study room. When she was led into the room by a servant, he smiled and praised the Old Gods that she was safe and sound.

"Lord Sunnyhap," She began. "you don't have to worry. Everything is fine." She lied. She didn't want to bother him any further.

"What did the Thirteen tell you? Have you got the cure and your notes?" He asked impatiently.

"Not yet, but I will soon. Don't worry about it. I've got it under control." She tried to lighten the issue, and then she changed the subject abruptly. "Actually, do you know where I can find Josua? I'd like to talk to him now that I'm here. I really miss him, you know. I'd like to have nice chat with him before I come back home." She added with a warm smile, pretending not to know about his betrayal. "Is he at his home? Or is he away in a business trip with his father like he used to do?"

"Actually, I do not know." He admitted chilling out. "You should probably wait until tomorrow morning, you know. It's late. They're probably sleeping right now, or about to. Lady Sunnyhap has just come back from visiting her friend, actually. Would you like to see her instead?"

"Sure, why not." She said with a dry smile. She desperately needed to find Josua no matter what. On top of that, she had never fully liked Lady Sunnyhap. She was kind, but kindness didn't always directly lead to liking.

When Lord Sunnyhap was leading her to his wife's chambers, he went on speaking about her with a huge grin on his face. His words denoted how much he doted on her. Marian assumed that she was the warm sun of every single one of his days.

'Such a good luck to be able to marry for love!' She envied him in her thoughts as she stared at him.

"Anyway," He concluded as they had been walking down the corridor to her chambers. "I'm sorry I bored you with my stories about her."

"You just love your wife. Is that a problem, Lord Sunnyhap?" She asked feeling amused by his reaction.

"No, of course not." He replied with a warm smile on his face. "Anyway, she usually likes some privacy before going to bed. She likes trying different beauty products, she says. She tries to fight against time and decay. She says she wants to stay beautiful for _me_…" He giggled at that comment. "She's obsessed with creams and oils and all that stuff I know nothing about, honestly. She tries all those usually for an hour every day before going to sleep. I've never bothered her while she does that. She prefers to be on her own, she says. But I'm sure she won't mind being interrupted for a few minutes now that you've come to visit. She'll be delighted."

When he knocked on Lady Sunnyhap's bedroom door, he opened it immediately afterwards, assuming as usual that he could come and go whenever he pleased. At the end of the day, that palace was his home, wasn't it?

"Honey, let me give you a nice surprise: Princess Marian is…" Lord Sunnyhap said with joy as he opened the door. "… _here_."

Lord Sunnyhap's voice had descended an octave with that last word, and his smile froze and died like wilds flowers under the first snowflakes of winter. The scene before his eyes was something he was not able to process. His wife was seated on the bed, stark naked, with messy hair – and Josua was lying naked on her bare spread legs. He was panting as if he had been busy doing some exercise.

In spite of the nasty situation, he was displaying his whole gorgeous body quite gladly. His torso was well-defined in all the right places, slightly tanned and covered by some delicate beads of sweet sweat. His tense biceps had been busy restraining Lady Sunnyhap's legs, and his big hands were still possessively on her. His thick neck was shot upwards, helping his god-like face face the consequences of having been spotted in bed with a powerful married woman. But his eyes… _Oh, his eyes_! They were dark with desire and lust – as he was staring straight at Marian. Unable to stop looking at his whole naked glory, Marian blushed revealingly. And as a consequence, on top of that, he smirked back at her.

"What the-?!" Lady Sunnyhap exclaimed in surprise as she rushed to cover her naked breasts and hips, as if her husband had never seen them before.

Marian was frozen too, like Lord Sunnyhap, with her jaw hanging down in amazement. Lord and Lady Sunnyhap were quite young, but they could have been Josua's or Marian's parents had they been just a little bit older. It was something she was unable to ignore: a young man like Josua in bed with a woman who was probably, what, ten or fifteen years older than him? The four of them stared at one another for what seemed to be an eternity, until at long last Lady Sunnyhap dared to break the ice.

"Ross, my darling, I know that this seems like I've…" She began apologetically, waving a hand as if the gesture could lighten that nasty situation. The other hand was busy getting hold of the blanket covering her body.

"You… lying… _whore_!" Lord Sunnyhap replied with quickly igniting fire in his chest and a face red with ire, which made Marian take a couple of steps away from him fearing that he might actually explode. His teeth and his fists were clenched and visibly trembling.

"It's _not_ what you think this is, Ross!" His wife was ready to complain, as if none of it had been her fault. Marian felt sorry for Lord Sunnyhap. "I swear! You have to believe me, Ross! It's _not_ what you think, I swear!"

"Oh, it _is_." Josua added then quite casually, and with a gentle smile, as if he knew that denying the whole thing would not help at all. "I don't know about you, but at my end it _was_."

"How dare you! You _bastard_!" Lady Sunnyhap exclaimed back at him.

"It's true. If you were more than ready to open your legs for me, why not open your mouth to your husband?" Josua replied quite wittily, but it didn't leave her speechless.

"Don't you _dare_ hide the fact that you were _fucking_ me while thinking of _her!_" Lady Sunnyhap exclaimed with jealousy and ire, and pointing an accusatory finger at Marian.

"_Enough_!" Lord Sunnyhap interrupted with ire.

"Do you honestly think that I didn't get it?! _Huh_?!" Lady Sunnyhap went on yelling at Josua and ignoring her husband's command. "I was giving you a blowjob the other night and you cummed mentioning _her_!"

Marian gasped, unable to react any further. She was even beginning to feel sick.

"I _didn't_!" Josua yelled.

"Oh, you don't want her to _know_, right?" She went on feeling amused by the power she suddenly had over his lover. Her dishevelled hair made her seem delirious. "If my marriage is over, so is your potential relationship with her!" And then she stared straight at Marian and told her what had happened as if they had always been BBFs. "Well, dear Marian, I had him _almost_ over the edge in my mouth when he said, and I quote: 'I don't mind you being married. Fuck him. I've got you now. You're _mine_, baby. Fuck _Robb_.' At first I thought he was referring to me… But it had been _you_ all along." She added defiantly.

"I said _Ross_, not _Robb_!" Josua complained, although no one bought it – not even himself.

At that, Lady Sunnyhap slapped his face once.

"Get out of my sight!" She yelled at him.

"The same goes for you, Sandrea." Lord Sunnyhap told his wife all of a sudden with serene anger. "You shall be destitute from now on, a beggar living in the streets. As far as I'm concerned, you are no longer my beloved wife. You're dead to me, and I'll make sure the rest of my fellow countrymen feel the same way. No one will hold you dear in their hearts anymore. I'll see to it."

"What…?" Lady Sunnyhap could not believe what her _former_ husband was telling her. "No! Wait! You can't do that to me! Please! I can explain! I can explain! Ross, I can explain!"

She begged on and on while she cried all the tears she had. She tried to stand up, but she fell on the floor by her husband's feet. She pleaded for mercy on and on, grabbing Lord Sunnyhap's trousers.

In the meantime, Josua was swiftly getting dressed. He could steal a glimpse of Marian every now and then, just to make sure whether she was still staring at him with those lovely, curious eyes of hers. Well, he left the top buttons of his white shirt undone, which didn't help Marian to avert her eyes at all. When he was done, he made as if he wanted to get closer to Marian, who was still standing by the open door right beside Lord Sunnyhap, but she shied to one side as if she was leaving the path to the open door clear. Then, he chuckled and tried to grab her right arm, but she crossed both her arms over her chest and took another step back away from him.

"No." Marian whispered defiantly.

"Marian, please, I need to talk to you." Josua apologetically replied, whispering.

"Yes, you do, but not about _this_ – and definitely not alone with me." She whispered back daringly. She wouldn't feel safe if Lord and Lady Sunnyhap decided to leave them on their own. "Anything you might have to say – you can say it right here, right now."

"Marian, please." He begged, giggling a bit.

"No, don't giggle at me, Josua. Tell me what you've done with the cure and my notes, and give them back to me." She demanded. "I know what you did."

"Or else?" He asked defiantly.

"I'm in no mood to deliver threats." She replied seriously. "Especially after _this_."

"I know what this means." He concluded also seriously. "You are unable to pose a threat… because it's not in you."

"Give me back what's mine. What you're doing is not fair!" She complained.

"Not fair?! Not fair, Marian?!" He yelled back at her. "I was the first to propose to you – and I was _never_ considered seriously. _Ever_. You wanna talk about being fair?!"

"Shall we make a deal then?" She decided to deal with it swiftly. A deal might sound more appealing to him. "What do you want?"

"You know what I want." He was calm and serious again.

"Not gonna happen." She whispered with determination.

"Then, no cure and no notes for you." He added then, whispering seriously.

"If you stole it, it means you want something else that's not me, right?" She guessed, whispering. "Was it money? Gold? Influence? Power? A seat among the Thirteen maybe?"

"No." He replied instantly and frowning. "I stole it to reach to you, _to have you_. I had a carefully planned strategy."

Marian fell silent. Why did everybody have plans on her? What did those plans involve?

"Would you two _please_ go away now?" Lord Sunnyhap eventually asked them trying to contain his anger. "I have enough on my plate right now to be forced to bear with you. Please, leave me alone with _my_… with Sandrea."

How sad it must have felt being on the verge of naming a beloved person in the usual fashion and then realising you cannot do that anymore. Because that person had changed too much, had lied or had betrayed you, reaching a point of no return. How forlorn must Lord Sunnyhap have felt!

Marian understood him very well. In spite of that, she was unwilling to be left alone with Josua, but she decided to put a brave face and do it anyway. It was the only way. They exited the bedroom and started walking down the corridor as they continued their conversation. In the meantime, intense arguing and yelling could be heard from the closed door of Lady Sunnyhap's bedroom. It was getting nastier by the minute.

"You cannot be serious, Josua. Scheming evil plans doesn't suit you." Marian got the ball rolling once more in the corridor. "Look, I'm not even remotely interested in knowing your plans on me. Whatever they are, just leave them behind you, OK? You should be able to discuss any problem you've got with me like an adult, like a normal person, not like an evil mastermind."

"I'm not evil. I'm just in love with you." He acknowledged calmly.

Silence filled the corridor – except for Lord and Lady Sunnyhap's heated argument in the background. The pictures hanging on the walls were rich in colours, the landscapes were spectacularly depicted – Marian started to stare at them whenever she heard a crossfire of swearwords emerging from Lady Sunnyhap's private chambers.

"So now what?" She asked rather naively. "You won't give them back to me, right? You don't want to even though you obviously care for me. If you gave them back, that would make me happy. Somehow this is not enough for you. You won't do it, right?"

"No." He replied in anger. "I'm _tired_ of being loyal to you when it's obvious that you'll leave me behind once I help you."

He was right. And she knew it.

"You know I've never meant to harm you, right?" She said gently.

"You're playing with me." He replied sternly.

"No, I'm not." She added calmly.

"Then, let's go back to having a deal, shall we?" He insisted. "I give you something _you_ want in return of something _I _want. Doesn't it sound nice?"

"OK, I guess." She whispered back, not knowing how to go on, feeling nervous in front of him.

"You have suggested we make a deal. What have you got in mind?" He asked straightforwardly. "Don't play tricks on me, Marian."

"Fair enough." She defended herself.

"Because I know exactly what I want." He added firmly. "I can give you a hint of how we're going to deal with this." He said taking a step towards her.

"So, what now? You are going to suggest a one-night stand?" She asked not believing she was actually saying such a thing. A one-night stand didn't fit in her moral parameters, but it might in his.

"Nope." He said taking another step closer to her.

She chuckled in disbelief, taking a step back. The corridor was not very wide, actually. She knew she'd soon hit the wall if he continued getting closer to her.

"You want it to be long-lasting?!" She exclaimed with trembling pupils as she stared at him.

"I want to be _the one_." He replied seriously, convinced of what he wanted to achieve. He took another step towards her with a predatory stare.

"You can't." She replied without thinking twice about it. "My father has already chosen for me. It's not like I have anything to do with it!"

"Then, defy him." He answered casually. "You don't love Robb and I know it."

"And what am I supposed to do, _huh_? Shall I make you prince against my father's will?! What you suggest is madness!" She yelled back at him.

"Don't get furious. There's no need to." He replied seriously and calmly. "I'd be satisfied if you'd let me be your lover. But you'd need to swear to me that Robb would only touch you – that is, be intimate with you – just to make him believe that he's got you pregnant. You'll be mine all the other times." He said raising a hand to comb one rebel lock of her hair behind her ear.

"You're crazy…" She whispered back at him in disbelief.

"You'll have the cure, your notes, and the best sex ever. I don't see any downside! What are you complaining about?!" He said mocking a frown at her.

She giggled a bit hysterically.

"What? You don't wanna do it." He added then whispering darkly, seeing that she didn't provide any answer. "You'd _only_ do it if I was Jon, wouldn't you?"

"What?!" She exclaimed all of a sudden, with her mouth open due to amazement.

'Good Old Gods, _of course_ I would!' She thought with lust while she pictured Jon and herself naked on her bed in the palace in King's Landing, cheating on Robb repeatedly for nights on end. She was wet in a nanosecond. 'Oh, Jon… Oh, my Gods!' She was melting just thinking of him. But before her there was another man. He was attractive, no doubt, but he was an unwanted suitor at the end of the day.

"You had a great business venture just about to start…" She said with great care. "and you decided to throw that away just to get it on with me?!"

"Why do you make it sound as if it was a horrible thing to do?!" He complained.

"Because you…" She was exasperated, she didn't know what to say. She knew he would never listen to her unless she accepted his terms. She knew it would be futile, unless she spoke the same language, let's say. She sighed once and tried to focus. "Have you got them, the cure and my notes, with you right now?" She asked seriously.

"Why?"

"Josua, if you wanna see this through, _convince_ me." She chid him. "Tell me you've got what _I _want, that they're safe and sound. And then we'll move on to what _you_ want." She demanded.

"I do." He acknowledged. "I have them on me. Safe and sound."

"OK, so… What if…" She began to ask in a much serene tone than before. He was staring at her, intensely, from a very short distance. She swallowed hard then before she went on thus: "What if I said I was fine with _it_, being with you, I mean, but we should… _errr_…? How should I say it? _Hummm_…" She hesitated.

"YOU WOULD DO IT?!" He asked thrilled, with wide eyes filled with joy, so much so that he grabbed her, hugged her tightly and started to kiss her on her lips as he nailed her to the nearest wall, taking for granted that she was fully on board without any regrets.

She loathed his impertinence, although she loved his earnestness and straightforwardness. He had been like that as a child, when he was more naïve than now. He was holding her tight against the wall, and as he kept insisting, he could eventually make way past her lush lips. He was putting his soul into the kiss. She moaned once into his mouth, and he loved it.

"Do it again." He whispered darkly at her, briefly interrupting their heated kiss.

"What…?" She whispered back at him, not knowing what he was referring to, while he softly nibbled at her lips.

"You know… _This_." He replied with lust as he sank his right hand down below, right behind her ass, and then between her legs, pressing a finger over the fabric of her trousers which covered her clit.

She moaned instantly and briefly. And he smirked at her.

"I notice you've got a knife with you. How handy." He whispered back at her defiantly.

Indeed. She had brought a couple of knives with her as a precaution. One had been hidden in a large pocket right behind her ass. The tip of the sheath had perforated the bottom of her pocket and was caressing the skin right at the back of her right leg. She had noticed it all along whenever she walked around. And he had felt it when he put his hand down there.

"It's not meant for you. Don't worry." She whispered back seriously.

"Good." She smiled at her once more.

"Don't get too excited, though." She whispered back smiling daringly. "And don't cut me when it's obvious that I'm not done speaking." She was referring to what she had been about to say right before he had lunged at her.

"Sorry." He replied gently, staring at her warmly. He even stopped holding her tightly.

"I don't wanna _rush_ things. That's what I wanted to say." She whispered gently. "I need time…"

"I will _only_ give you the cure and your notes back when you've already lain with me at least once." He interrupted her seriously.

She swallowed hard. She thought and thought about a way to get out of that one. She didn't want to have intercourse with him – at least not right away. But the sailor might die in a matter of days, or best-case scenario, in a few weeks. The illness could (and would) spread in Westeros in the meantime. There was no time to hesitate.

"Shall we go to the guest room?" She suggested, whispering with shyness.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Some heated kisses later, he had already disposed of her dark jacket and had partly unbuttoned her white shirt.

"Be careful down there." She begged whispering while Josua was lying on top of her with his jacket already unbuttoned, on that bed in her good old guest room in Lord Sunnyhap's palace.

"What do you mean?" He whispered back at her seriously. He had even stopped kissing and biting her neck for that purpose.

"I've, you know, never…" She hesitated and blushed.

Josua's eyes widened with wonder and stared into her eyes for a long time.

"I thought that you'd probably done it by now." He whispered in awe. "With more than one men chasing you, lusting after you…I thought…"

"No, no. I never allowed it." She admitted.

Then, he smiled at her. She guessed he liked the idea of being her first one. They fell silent and then he got the chance to sit up on her legs, grab his jacket and put it away onto the floor. Then, a familiar clink could be heard. It had come from one of its pockets. He began to unbutton his white shirt, which was partly unbuttoned already, displaying his well-sculptured, tanned chest. Marian recognized that clink sound because it could only be the flask in which she had stored the cure. She had carried it on herself and protected it from any harm long before he had the chance to do it. Of course she knew how it sounded like! The notebook might also be hidden in his jacket, then, she suspected. In the meantime, Josua had thrown his shirt on the floor too and was unbuttoning his pants by the time she started to hesitate whether it was really worth it. If she did it, she'd have to lie to Robb… her whole life. She started biting her lower lip.

"Having second thoughts, Marian?" He asked gently, trying to sound both comforting and seductive. He didn't want to be mean to her now that he had almost got her.

"No, I just… I was just wondering. I never thought it'd be like this." She lied. She was actually thinking of any possible alternative to making love with him, and the only conclusion she had drawn was that she was unable to use a knife, her only partially-sane option, against him. She would have to give in to him.

"Don't worry. I'll be gentle, I promise. I won't hurt you." He said while he got rid of his belt altogether.

He took it away and threw it onto the floor while Marian had been staring at his imposing, dark silhouette outlined by the dim moonlight which filtered through the curtains. Every single muscle he was displaying was a god-like piece of flesh, and each of them deserved a ragged intake of air from any female.

"Do you like what you see?" Josua asked whispering, feeling proud that the answer would be positive. "Touch me if you want."

She hesitated, but he patiently waited for her to lose all her fears and inhibitions, and to approach him like he had always wanted she would. And she did. She sat up before him, and with her left hand she got closer to him, bit by bit. She began to tremble a little bit. She caressed his abs with the tips of her fingers. He smiled at her. Her mouth was dry, and she felt the need to lick her lips once. She began to trace endless loops all around his abs, his chest, his biceps, and more. He had his eyes closed all the time, chilling out and surrendering to the carnal pleasures she was giving him as a treat right before the fireworks.

Out of the blue, she grabbed him, kicked him and shoved him down to the floor. She swiftly sat on his back as if he was a horse, then got hold of his hands and held them tight right behind him. He groaned and complained, but it was no use. She was strong and fast – and had caught him by surprise. Before he could even fathom what was going on, she had tied his hands together with his belt, and right afterwards, his feet by his ankles using a strip of cloth from the blankets. It reminded her of what she had done to Theon that night at the brothel, that same night in which Jon had come to her growling like a hungry wolf.

"Hey! HEY! Marian!" He yelled at her with anger, waking her up from her daydream. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Then, she got another strip of cloth and gagged him. Next, she retrieved the flask and her notebook from his jacket.

"Thank you for your help, Josua." She whispered to him.

And that was the last he saw of her.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

When Marian set her feet back on the King's Landing's paving stones the next morning, she hurried back to the castle immediately.

There were only two things she regretted from her last trip to Qarth: one, not having comforted Lord Sunnyhap in a such painful situation in his life (she could at least have said goodbye, but those two former love birds were still at each other's throats – so she had decided to flee); and two, leaving Josua tied up and forlorn. Betrayal didn't suit her, but the alternative (having sex with him) hadn't looked good either.

In the castle, Lord Stark was impatiently waiting for her already. Apparently, he had lead an exhaustive, intensive search for her once more when he had found out she was nowhere to be found again. Even though he chid her for escaping once more bearing in mind that there was a murderer on the loose, he admitted to her that he had been covering her up: the King knew nothing of her whereabouts. He had not asked for her, actually, but Lord Stark didn't mention that to her. And certainly Lord Stark had not spilled the beans when the servants and guards found out that she was gone, anyway. The less the King knew about her comings and goings without consent, the better.

As far as the king was concerned, he had not bothered to come out of his chambers for quite a lot of hours, not even once. He had only called some servants and maids to do their duties as expected, and that had been all. He had ordered more wine than usual, or so a maid said. Lord Stark hoped his royal friend might be losing himself to a sea of wine, but he knew better: he was only fucking his time by. He knew he might be having female company to comfort him.

"Where were you this time?" Lord Stark asked her with mild anger. "Were you up north, after Jon?"

"I just… I just wanted some fresh air." She partly lied.

"Fresh air? For what? A _whole_ day?" He reprimanded her like a father. "A day and a half maybe? How long have you been away this time? You've got such bags under your eyes… It's obvious that you haven't slept properly tonight. Princess Ma-"

"I know, I know!" She admitted. "Where was I now that there's a murderer on the loose? Am I out of my mind? Am I nuts? Blah, blah, blah. I get it. And I'm sorry that I made you worry. I probably let you down. But I'm fine. I know how to take care of myself. I stayed out of trouble." She partly lied: she was fine, but she definitely had _not_ stayed out of trouble.

Lord Stark sighed in defeat.

"You're as stubborn as your father." He sighed once more and smiled at her. "And I totally get why my Arya adores you like a goddess. You're the perfect idol for her."

Marian smiled back at him.

"Anyway, I'm also waiting for Robb to come back." Lord Stark replied, visibly worried. "Before he left yesterday, he said he needed to speak to Jon urgently and that he'd try to reach him on horse. Do you know why?"

"No. No idea whatsoever." She lied, but she lied well.

"Have you seen him by any chance?" He asked seriously.

"No. I'm sorry." Marian replied gently.

"My lord!" A guard exclaimed handing Lord Stark a letter. "A raven from Robb."

"Ah, good. A raven! That will explain something." Lord Stark had never been so greatly relieved to see a piece of paper.

"Lord Stark, I need to attend some urgent matters," She said gently then. "so if you'll excuse me, I'll get going. Please call me if Robb needs anything. Anything at all."

Lord Stark nodded with a warm smile on his face and proceeded to open the letter and read it.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Soon after that, Marian found out that the two sailors had been led to a nearby inn and had been told to stay there until she came back by one of her personal maids. The same maid told her of the precautions she had taken to ensure no one suspected anything since the matter was delicate. The stables were not a safe place, anyway. Marian thanked her for her help and hurried to visit her patient. Little did both females know that Lady Amiss had overheard everything.

'Lord Baelish will be extremely pleased to know this.' Lady Amiss thought with naught. 'He'll be thunderstruck in front of me, the Queen of Seduction! Soon I'll have him at my feet!'

A few minutes later, Marian was at the inn, still wearing Robb's clothes as a disguise, helping the poor ill sailor drink a bit of the cure. Later she handed him a glass of water and smiled at him. Both sailors could not find enough words to thank her properly.

"You're a gift f'om de Old Gods, Princess! To think dat de folk he'e want ya dead…" One of them said with pity and unable to believe the truth he had just delivered.

"What?" She asked politely but getting pale, thinking that she had misheard his words.

"Ya don't know?" The other asked her. When she mildly shook her head once, he went on explaining. His tongue seemed unwilling to cooperate though, as if what he had to say was too harsh. "De peopl' say ya are a lucky… err… well…"

"Say the words. I'm not afraid or easily offended." She was trying to remain calm.

"A lucky whore." He finally said shyly.

"Dey say ya don't deserv' to be princess. Dey say it's yar fault de Queen and her children died. Dey say ya are a gould digger… a bastard, err… oder stuff." His voice was getting weaker and weaker as he spoke due to embarrassment. "Dey all agree dat ya'd rader be dead, or killed."

The faces of the two men became sad and somber as they remained staring at the floor before them, unable to meet her eyes.

"It's only natural they think that." She concluded with a sad voice, remembering how meanly people treated Jon for the exact same reason.

"But ya don't deserv' it! Ya're a good pers'n, yar highness." The first sailor said complaining.

"I hope dey see dat someday, princess." The other added.

She just smiled at them, silently sharing their hopes. Not long after that, she checked on the ill patient and realised that he was much better. The cure was working wonders.

"You should rest some days, though." She said gently. "If you think you're not getting over it, come and see me once more. I'll be more than glad to help you."

Both sailors thanked her wholeheartedly once more before she left.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Luckily for Marian, Robb's clothes had enabled her to travel and move around unnoticed. She was glad of it, because things were going from bad to worse: one attempted murder in Qarth, two murders in the royal palace, and now the vast majority of the population in King's Landing wanted her dead. Marvellous!

When she got back to her chambers in the royal palace, she was cautious enough to hide away what was left of the cure in a box she hid behind some books in the bookshelf of her bedroom. No sooner had she stored and hid the flask that Lord Baelish made his entrance without bothering to even knock on the door. It was as if he owned the place.

"Such a lovely day outside, Princess Marian. Why stay indoors when you could bathe in such a wonderful sunlight?" He asked amused.

"Lord Baelish, you scared me!" She exclaimed.

He was smiling broadly at her, which didn't strike her as unusual even though she felt something weird about it. He paced slowly towards the nearest window, opened it and finally leaned on the windowsill, the very same through which he had entered the other night he came to visit her. That visit would haunt her nightmares for many nights on end, to be sure.

"I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention, my dear princess." He said seductively, using that stupid pet expression he loved so much.

She rolled her eyes and pretended not to be bothered by it anymore. She guessed that the more she complained about it, the more he'd use it.

"Are you going to make a habit out of it?" She asked seriously.

"What?"

"Coming in here without a warning or even knocking, like a normal human being." She explained, bored of that rather childish way that he had to call her attention.

"What about you?" He shot back at her feeling rather amused. "Are you going to make a habit out of escaping the royal palace?"

'So this is it.' She thought. 'He's spying on my every move. He needs to have something on me to persuade me to do as he pleases. I cannot let him think he can succeed.'

"I may if I find the people inside its walls bothersome." She replied in a passive-aggressive voice.

"_Ouch_. _Touché_, my dear princess." He replied amused.

"You know this was meant for you, right?" She insisted. He nodded with a gentle smile as he stared at her as the soft, refreshing morning breeze combed her hair while it flew past the open window. "And yet you keep using that _bothersome_ pet expression."

"Do you know you look stunning in Robb's clothes?" He complimented her.

"Don't change the topic of discussion, Lord Baelish. Not gonna work on me." She replied drily.

"Don't change your clothes, my dear princess." He added amused. "I assume you'll do _exactly_ the opposite of what I ask you, as usual."

"Lord Baelish, …" She sighed with mild desperation.

"Excuse me. I forgot my manners! … Don't change your clothes, my dear princess_, please_." He rephrased.

"It's not that and you know it." She replied seriously.

"You are the first woman who's _this_ close to me in a private chamber to whom I beg _not_ to take off her clothes." He whispered softly yet darkly to her as he came closer to her. "But you would be the first one who, in _ignoring_ my plea, would actually _please_ me."

"Keep dreaming, Lord Baelish." She replied whispering also softly and darkly at the same time. "Because I shall never be the woman who will please you."

"You might want to bearing in mind that I know your little secret." He whispered as he got a bit closer to her. Now he was barely a few inches apart from her.

She wondered how he knew about it. Of course she knew about the people working for him, telling him every single detail of what was going on in King's Landing, but what she wondered about was how come he had managed to know she'd been away to Qarth to get the cure back bearing in mind that she'd been extra cautious. She had even dressed herself up as a man to that end. And who would've told him as well? She was beginning to be too curious.

"Now you're talking." She replied amused. "Good. So tell me to my face what it's this little secret of mine that you know." She wanted to make sure they were on the same page.

"You're a brilliant doctor, and foolish." He went on whispering darkly. "But that's not a secret. The secret is this, though: you're not supposed to work as such. And you _have_. You've put yourself in danger by travelling to Qarth and back, then treated an ill sailor in a nearby inn. I bet Lord Stark and the King know nothing about it. What would they say if they knew? What would Robb say if he knew?"

"And of course you want me to accept that stupid partnership deal in exchange of your silence, don't you?" She anticipated.

"Maybe. You could throw in something else that I _might_ want." He whispered while he stared at her cleavage.

"Not gonna happen." She chuckled and whispered back with pride.

"Then the King and the rest of the court will know that you…"

"Fuck it." She daringly replied cutting his speech abruptly. "I don't care. You go and tell them. Right now if you want."

"Don't act cocky, my dear princess. It doesn't suit you." He threatened her with a gentle and warm voice after chuckling once.

"Don't act nice to me, Lord Baelish. It doesn't suit _you_." She partly copied his words, mocking him.

Lord Baelish smirked at her amused. He loved that kind of conversations. None of the other ladies who he had ever known in his entire life had dared to speak to him like that. He was thrilled.

"Good Old Gods, I _love_ you." He whispered darkly as he took a decisive step towards her once more, as if he wanted to reap a forbidden kiss from those lush lips… again.

She took a couple of steps back, swallowing hard. That comment made her eyebrows rise in disbelief, though. Was Lord Baelish actually capable of love?

"Keep defying me, Princess Marian. The more you do it, the more I want you." He added darkly and trying to contain his passion.

'Marvellous!' She thought feeling under pressure. 'Another unwanted suitor who wants to get what he wants at all costs.'

"Then keep blackmailing me." She replied daringly. "Look at all the fucks I give!" She added with sarcasm and crossing her arms over her chest, then.

She started to pace around the room, trying to get some more distance between them. In spite of her rather predatory movement around him, the one who displayed a much predatory attitude was him, not her. His eyes were aflame with desire. He was smirking at her all the time.

"A _true_ Queen of Seduction." He whispered coarsely, more to himself than to her.

"Still a worthier title than yours." She whispered back daringly.

His grin widened for a moment, he clenched his fists and took a small intake of air, as if he was having trouble to control himself, and then he went on speaking thus:

"I'll do it. Won't you regret it?" He whispered threateningly at her.

"What? You telling them about what I'm up to? _Nah_. Not one bit. You know why?" She asked defiantly. "Because for as long as I don't care about my secrets, for as long as I'm comfortable with what I do and who I am, you will get _nothing_ from me. For me, being a doctor is no secret. Being stubborn is not a secret either. I can deal with the consequences. Thank you for your concern, though. Just think of this: if I couldn't cope with the consequences, then I wouldn't have accepted the responsibility, would I?"

He just chuckled and nodded. She was a good thinker.

"I'm going to do it, Princess." He whispered darkly. "You might regret it."

"Keep telling that to yourself. It might become true."

His grin widened and then he exited the room. She waited for a minute or so until she was sure he was really gone and far away from her chambers.

At long last she could sigh with relief and begged to the Old Gods for Robb to come back as soon as possible. She hoped that he would gladly become her bodyguard just to prevent Lord Baelish from ambushing her like that anymore in the future.

"Please, Robb." She whispered to herself. "Hurry up! _I need you here_… for as long as you are willing to protect me – even though you know I'm still angry at you for what you did to Jon."

She sighed deeply. And waited.


End file.
